The Sodor Chronicles: The Diesel Affair
by Koala Monkey
Summary: {Human AU} Thomas Huntington arrives on the island of Sodor, young and eager to pursue a career within the North Western railway. Instead, he finds himself caught up in a dangerous world of the complex lives of the Hatt family and the conniving, ruthless plans of the evil Diesel 10. (be aware of shipping, mild violence)
1. Preface

_**I'd very much like for everyone to read this before continuing on. I'll try to keep as concise as possible, but background info is important!**_

As you've read in the summary (and it didn't deter you, so we're off to a good start), this is a Thomas and Friends human alternate universe fan fiction; a story that reimagines the steam engine characters as if they were human and attempts to do so as seamlessly as possible with the preexisting world. This is not a human AU fic wherein the characters are popular high school drama tropes or something wildly different like that, but a fic that attempts to change little more than the character's biological make-up (and the consequences that come as a result of this).

Granted, that's a big change in and of itself, but we're still on Sodor. All storylines and characters stem from the pre-established setting of the function of the Northwestern Railway. The engines are still there, they just are no longer the characters. The characters are there, they are just no longer engines.

 _ **Why?**_ Why write something like this? Where did the concept come from? If I'm honest, it came from hours and hours of watching Thomas with my son during the day and then catching an hour or two of a BBC workplace drama in the evenings (see: The Paradise and Mr. Selfridge). Don't get me wrong, I consider myself blessed to get to watch Thomas and Friends that much, as I sincerely enjoy it...but, inevitably, my husband and I were going to end up expanding on the preexisting universe. Asking ourselves the 'what if they were human?' question didn't take long.

I began writing this story about a year ago, using the ideas we had come up with. I felt like it wasn't enough just to dream up the 'what if' and leave it like that, I had to arrange and bring this alternate universe to life as a story- for the sake of my curiosity, if for nothing else.

You may have already guessed this, but I feel like a clear warning ahead of time is necessary. _**There will be shipping/pairing characters off in this story,**_ as they are human now and there are no longer any of the boundaries that existed when they were engines and the whole concept of them having or wanting romantic relationships seemed a little too farfetched (to me). I say this now because I know shipping can be a sensitive subject, just as much in the TTTE community as it is anywhere else. There are those who are adamantly opposed to and disgusted by the whole thing, then there are those who are already very opinionated about who should be put with whom. I want to say now that the characters I've paired off in this story (and there aren't a TON) are those my husband and I cooked up together. They make sense to us and my hope is to have them make sense to you, too (whether or not you end up shipping them yourself). This is why I don't list these pairings out in the summary. I don't want people turning away from a story they might enjoy because the coupling listed didn't square with their personal bias. I only ask that everyone keep an open mind. In-depth questions are fine, but please no 'why did you put X and Y together?' in the comments. The answer is _read_. Read the story. The answer is there.

The story is already rated, but I feel I should restate this here; _**this is not a story meant to appeal to children**_. It's not an outrageously graphic story one way or the other either, but there are adult elements to this that I don't think younger children would find entertaining. Again, think of this as Thomas and Friends reimagined for Masterpiece Theater. I would not, personally, recommend this for readers under 13 or so- if only because anyone younger would find it immeasurably boring and just ask for another episode of the original, good stuff. Heck, some of you in your 20's might share that sentiment as well, I don't know.

I feel like there's more I should be saying/warning people of in this note, but I don't want to spend too long groveling and apologizing for a piece of work that I'm actually very proud of. I still have no idea how this story will be received. My year-long involvement in the community hasn't really assured me of anything one way or the other but I'm not about to let that stop me. Please feel free to share your thoughts, be they critical or positive. I really do want to know what people make of this concept.

Also, please note that I've done my best to employ what I've learned of railway function in this story. As I've never worked on a railway, nor consider myself an expert of how things are done, I'm bound to get something (if not many things) wrong. Railway function is still a crucial, pivotal part of this story that I don't feel these characters can exist fully without. Hopefully my attempt will be appreciated, no matter how ham-handed the execution.

Lastly, as part of a new agreement with myself to not start posting multi-chaptered fics until they are finished, this story is already written in full. It is the product of a year's worth of writing, editing, cutting and pasting. I will try to post a new chapter every week. In essence, if you _like_ this story you don't need to worry about it being left on a cliffhanger for the rest of your life. Go ahead, indulge. The ending is already written and ready to be published.

I hope everyone can enjoy this story for what it is- or, at the very least, not feel shy about telling me why they don't. It's something new for this community and also a bit of a risk, but one I felt was worth taking.

Happy reading!


	2. Chapter 1

The sky was clear and bright the day Thomas Huntington arrived on Sodor- thank goodness for it too, as his boat voyage from the mainland might not have been so pleasant or so safe otherwise. News of good weather had no doubt been seen as a blessing to his mother back home. The ever-present reminder of her love and worry was pressed close to his chest; only a locket, an old family heirloom, a gift upon his reaching adulthood and vowing to go seek his success in the railway industry.

Thomas knew that for as much as his mother wanted him to stay close there were things she feared worse. The prayer of thanks she said every night to her rosary that time had spared her son from going to war was evidence enough that… _yes_ , this was fine. It was his calling in any case, a passion he could not pursue back home.

With his conscience as clear as the robin's egg blue sky above him, Thomas disembarked the ship, his one burlap bag of belongings slung over his shoulder, looking not unlike his grandfather must have when he crossed the English Channel. In much the same situation as his grandfather…Thomas hadn't a clue where he needed to be or how he would procure a ticket into the main rail station. His job would start soon and he would have money then, but for now he was penniless save for what little he had scraped together for room and board.

Resolved to get into the heart of the island one way or another and left with really no other option, Thomas elected to walk. Oh, he would have much preferred to ride a passenger train. It had been so long since he'd been able to actually _ride_ one, as without funds or reason to do so back home it was an activity he could only dream of. This he continued to do as he strolled through the meadows and hillsides along the track, identifying each kind of engine as it rolled and tooted past. Even if his shoes were worn and his body fatigued, Thomas considered himself lucky to be where he was: a beautiful morning, the rolling hills of Sodor, the sight of steam engines thundering by his to enjoy. If not for his lack of time he would have sat down and taken in the moment like a cup of chamomile tea.

But for as wonderful as all of this was, Lady Fortune had only _begun_ bestowing her gifts.

"I say, you there! Young man!"

A small, but expensive model yellow car drove up and stopped beside him on the neighboring road. The driver inside –an older, dignified man- had stuck his head out and was, very clearly, addressing him.

"Uh-…y-yes, sir?"

"Why are you wandering about with that luggage when there are so many railway lines that can take you where you need to be? We are an _island_ of engines, dear boy! Or hadn't you noticed?"

"Yes, sir, I noticed," Thomas adjusted his bag nervously, wondering what could be the meaning of the man's arbitrary interest in him. "That's why I'm here. I've gotten a job working for the railway, it's just...well. I couldn't afford a ticket, is the thing."

It was a shameful admission, one that Thomas had hoped he wouldn't have to make to a complete stranger…but something about the way this man dressed and carried himself made Thomas think it wasn't wise to lie to him.

"Oh dear," the man sighed, shaking his head. "Well, that simply _won't_ do at all. I will have to take you in myself. I'm on my way into the main station as it is so it's no trouble. Please, don't argue. Come hop in, do."

Despite the man's pleas Thomas had made absolutely no attempt to argue and was already of the mind that doing so, even politely, wouldn't be well received. What's more, he _neede_ d quick transportation into the main station. As such, he thanked him and decided to make his way into the back seat as per the invitation (no matter that his mother would have never approved of him riding in the car of a stranger). Comforting was the sight of a pretty young woman around his age already there in the passenger seat, well dressed in the same sort of way as the man.

"My daughter, Millie," the man introduced as put the car back into drive. "You'll have to forgive her French- the unfortunate side effect of consorting with a Parisian woman in my youth."

True to the very candid warning, Millie greeted Thomas with a smile and a perfectly pronounced, "Bonjour!"

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," Thomas said. "Your generosity is overwhelming, I don't know how I can thank you. I'm Thomas Huntington, I just sailed over from the mainland."

Millie tapped her father on the shoulder and reminded him he hadn't yet introduced himself.

"Hmm? Oh! Yes, my most sincere apologies. I must've left my manners at Ulfstead. Sir Robert Norramby, at your service, Mr. Huntington."

Thomas balked. That was _most certainly_ a name he recognized. Could he really be in the presence of who it appeared he must have been?

"You-…I'm sorry, I must have misheard. You're…Sir Norramby, as in-…the _Earl_ of Sodor?" Thomas looked to the so-called 'Little Millie'. "So you must be…Lady Millicent! Oh my-...! I'm so sorry, your Lordship, I hadn't any idea-"

"Nonsense, dear boy," Sir Robert waved off, and Thomas wondered if the Earl hadn't been _hoping_ to keep his identity a secret all along. "We're all friends here. No formalities, if you please, I've enough of that on the island proper."

Again, Thomas didn't argue…yet, he could not get completely comfortable knowing he was in the presence of nobility.

* * *

"You're looking very posh for a visit to the Steamworks."

Gordon had a tendency to loom. His tall height had something to do with it, of course, but so did his domineering personality and the fact that he was her big brother. It had always been an aspect of him- big, booming, looming Gordon Hatt. Emily could always sense him from a mile or so away.

Now, however, he was the invasive presence behind her in the hallway mirror as she put on her earrings, side-eyeing her disdainfully as had been his routine for some time now.

"A lady must always look her best," Emily explained with a bit of a huff, her nose upturned as it was wont to do.

"Yes, well. Let us hope no oil smudges those emerald earrings. Or that _sensible_ dress. I can only _imagine_ how much that ensemble must have cost father."

 _He_ was one to talk, bedecked as he always was in his finely tailor-made suits to oversee a rail station. Emily supposed there was something to be said for the messiness of the Steamworks, but she also knew this impromptu scolding wasn't about clothing.

"You've been acting petulant ever since you returned from London," she said, driving right to the heart of this behavior. "Stop being silly, Gordon. You can't honestly expect father to groom you for Controller when you couldn't even keep your own businesses afloat."

Gordon's brow furrowed and he glared down at her, a gesture that would never frighten her no matter how tall he was in comparison.

"And he's to expect _you_ to be well-suited? You are a child!"

"I am _24_! That is _hardly_ a child!"

"And you haven't even an _interest_ in the railway! You haven't interest in business pursuits at all!"

For a moment, Emily was without an argument. It was the unfortunate truth and also a futile thing. They, all of them, knew their fates were predetermined as per their being members of the nobility and upper class…but perhaps Gordon needed reminding.

"It's not up to us," Her voice went lower and more firm now as if sharing a secret, even if _this_ was anything but. "Not you, not me, not James. We're bound to our family's will, whether _you_ like it or not. Be angry all you like, but nothing about that will ever change."

Gordon had already been compelled into a frustrated silence, but it was then that mindful middle brother James came strutting in, helping himself to the hallway mirror that had once been Emily's post.

"Now, now," he crooned. "Father won't find your bickering very becoming at all. I'd recommend putting an end to it as he'll be down shortly."

The familiar footfalls could be heard on the stairs- heavy, firm, final. It was a sound they all eagerly anticipated and dreaded, depending on the situation; it was a sound that they would one day miss more than any other in the world. But for now, Sir Topham Hatt's children went quiet save for greeting him with an amicable, "Good morning, father."

He bestowed them with a nod of approval as if inspecting a fleet of engines and a simple, "Good morning."

Sir Hatt received his coat from the butler as he said his usual, "I hope we're all well and ready to depart. I'm afraid we're already running behind schedule," and then called for his accountant, Toby.

James, being the middle child and, in his opinion, lacking in proper attention, was cheeky and loved causing little rifts where possible. As such he couldn't help but throw out under his breath, "For as much as Gordon can be ready without his railway inheritance."

Gordon huffed indignantly but it was too late to stop what had already been set in motion. Sir Topham knew his eldest son's concern well and to say it had been a bone of contention between them in the past would be an understatement.

"Not this _again_ , Gordon. When you returned from your failed ventures you expected me to give you my appointment without hesitation. The very idea is _absurd_. It's risk enough for me to designate you stationmaster, I am going above and beyond the limits of a father's generosity to even grant you that. Enough of this foolishness! If this appointment is not sufficient then you are perfectly entitled to try your hand again in London, but as long as you are working for _me_ you will perform to the standard I expect of every employee."

Meek accountant Toby entered the room at the tail end of this scolding, soon enough to see his employer's round face reddened and the much larger, intimidating eldest son cowering like a dog with his tail between his legs.

"Ah, Mr. Scholl, there you are." Sir Topham Hatt then transitioned smoothly from frustration to professionalism. "I've some matters that would benefit from your attention at the railway this morning. I would very much like to have you accompany us in."

Toby, like most everyone, wouldn't argue with Sir Topham Hatt for anything, no matter how much he hated being at the railway. The loud noises and large crowds he found suffocating, much preferring his quiet office overlooking the countryside at the Hatt estate…but, needs must when the employer bids it. He agreed with a nod and dutiful 'yes sir' and the family, plus Toby, moved to the car.

* * *

"Last stop, Sodor's main station! Here she is, my boy, what do you make of her?"

Thomas had been marveling since the station had appeared on the horizon but upon arrival he could better see everything; the big, glass archways, the immaculately clean platforms and benches. He hesitated to liken it to a palace in the presence of the Earl and his daughter, but truly he could compare it to nothing less.

" _Beautiful_ , Sir Robert…!" Thomas marveled as he stepped onto the platform. "I can't help but wonder…what if this is just a dream...?"

"My boy, life is but a dream, and we are all mere chips of tile in the great cosmic mosaic…ah, Bertram! Come, Mr. Huntington, your employer awaits!"

Thomas was soon looking straight ahead at none other than Sir Topham Hatt himself and that was enough to sharpen his focus.

"Robert! Millie! Good morning!" Sir Topham replied, extending his hand for a greeting shake from his brother-in-law and getting –not unexpectedly- a firm hug instead. "I hadn't expected to see you both so early."

"Stephen had a change of schedule and will be in with the next train, hence our rushing from Ulfstead," Sir Robert explained. "Oh, lest I forget! I found something of yours wandering the countryside, a little lost scamp."

Thomas trusted Sir Robert meant the title in jest, but stepped forward nonetheless as he was bid.

Sir Robert introduced, "This is Mr. Thomas Huntington, your newest employee. I do hope he looks familiar."

Of course Thomas knew he wouldn't; Sir Topham Hatt was far too busy to hire employees directly and so this would be the first meeting. Even so, his employer still nodded.

"Yes, I seem to recall that name. Welcome aboard, Mr. Huntington, we're pleased to have you."

Sir Topham once again extended his hand for a shake and Thomas thought he might keel over from joy. He knew better than to follow the Earl's example of answering with an embrace instead…no matter how much he may have wanted to.

"T-Thomas is fine, Sir," he assured. "That is-, I mean…you can call me whatever you wish, Sir, but I-…the formal title is-"

The young lady beside Topham Hatt, no doubt his daughter, Miss Emily, deliberately coughed to end the poor boy's verbal staggering.

"Thomas it is then," she said, decisive. "I'm sure that'll be easier for all of us."

Sir Topham chuckled a bit under his breath and looked to his daughter with a visible pride before continuing his introduction to his new employee.

"Have you been given your first appointment this morning, Thomas?"

"Oh, uh- yes, sir! I was told after I reported to the main office I would be sent to the Steamworks."

"Fortuitous that Emily and I are headed to the same place. After you've seen to the main office you may accompany us."

Thomas was _entirely_ sure now this was naught but a wonderful dream that would be followed by a jarring wake up. He'd be back at home, rising at dawn to help with the animals as he always had. Things as wonderful as this only happened in the loveliest of fantasies and he felt he shouldn't indulge for fear of huge disappointment…but ultimately decided he would deal with the fallout when it came and enjoy the fantasy for now.

"Oh, sir, that's-….yes, yes, thank you! I'll be brief, I promise!"

* * *

"Odd that father would volunteer to transport a boy like that. He's only _just_ been hired."

For as much as Gordon agreed with James' observation as their father, Emily and the pauper boy drove away, he still hadn't much interest in polite conversation following the stunt that morning.

"Shouldn't you be at the Quarry, brother dear?" Gordon suggested with no lack of venom. "I can't imagine that _anything_ gets done without you."

Gordon's sarcasm wasn't lost on James. He scoffed and rolled his eyes as if his older brother was acting completely unreasonable.

"My train's only _just_ arrived. Emily's right, by the by. You've been such a displeasure ever since you returned home. You needn't take the frustration of your failures out on your own flesh and blood, _brother dear_."

James' especially cutting words were no doubt inspired by the fact that he could then climb aboard his train and escape from Gordon's wrath. It was more than tempting to shout some sort of idle threat at James' car as it chuffed away, but Gordon was an English gentleman and had far more respectability than that.

He instead grumbled and hissed and turned quickly on his heel to stomp back and resume his duties in the main office. So blind by anger was he that he didn't see someone cross his path until they were both colliding and her bag had fallen to the ground.

"For goodness sakes, _watch_ where you're going!" Gordon shouted on frustrated impulse before he could see whom he had hit, before he could remember he was station master and _couldn't_ be addressing passengers that way.

"That's no way to address a lady!"

Gordon flinched and gasped when he saw the woman sprawled ungainly on the ground. A young man that looked very much like her (a twin brother, perhaps) was helping her to her feet and giving him the nastiest of looks.

"Oh, I'm-…I'm very sorry, I…suppose I wasn't paying close enough attention."

Any apology Gordon made put a very tough strain on his pride, even in such a context as this when the fault clearly lay with him. The struggle for basic courtesy was palpable in the grumble of his voice.

The still quite angry young man made to say something but the woman stopped him with a calming touch of the hand.

"Oh, no harm done, sir, nevermind my brother, Connor. Ever the stalwart chaperone and protector, he is!"

Having never seen them before, Gordon wondered what their business might have been on Sodor. The woman's riding gloves gave him the answer; they were contenders here for the charity race.

"Come on, Caitlin," Connor bid her, gathering their bags with one last look of disdain at Gordon. "We're to be at the stables in an hour."

For reasons that Gordon didn't entirely comprehend, Caitlin waved him a polite goodbye as she followed her brother away.

* * *

Emily was grateful her father had more of a focus on his new employee than her during this car ride. She had been preparing herself all morning for the lengthy lecture of the Steamworks; one in the car, and then one in the Steamworks itself as she got her introductory tour. Honestly, how much did she need to know about the basics of steam engine repair? It seemed her father just paraded about all day barking orders at people. She could _easily_ do that without any knowledge of trains whatsoever- indeed, sometimes she felt it was the only part of this predestined position that she could look forward to.

The new employee had kept her father laughing the entire time. In all of 15 minutes or so Emily saw him chuckle more than he had in years. To this moment she sometimes wondered if he was even _capable_ of such a thing for how little he ever did it.

"Thomas, my boy, you are a delight!" he praised as soon as they had arrived at the Sodor Steamworks and left the car. Sir Topham took the opportunity to clap Thomas approvingly on the back.

Emily was _sure_ she never saw her father this happy, save for when Alicia Botti was around.

"And now that we have had our fun, it's time to make the proper introductions. Come, both of you."

Emily and Thomas followed Sir Topham into the cavernous, bee-hive like depot that was the Steamworks. Engines were suspended on platforms, big, oil-smudged men in overalls ran about with tools and engine parts, seemingly preoccupied by their work to the point of un-interruption…until Sir Topham Hatt came forward and made his presence known. The activity slowed to all but a stand-still.

"No need to stop, gentlemen, carry on. Carry on, _please_. If someone could take a moment to fetch Mr. Castillo for me?"

A younger man driving an unwieldy yellow crane approached them and Emily had a moment where she feared for her life that he would run her over.

"Kevin, you _must_ be more careful," Sir Topham scolded.

The younger man, Kevin, nodded. "Oh yes, of course, I'm so sorry, sir! I just came to say that if you're looking for Victor he's hard at work on that A1 locomotive over there. Blocked valves, I think."

Emily gathered from _recent events_ and the way her father politely sent him away that Kevin's helpfulness was a rare occurrence. Why did he even employ these people if they were so incompetent? She couldn't fathom it. Maybe when she took over she could cut some of the useless ones from the budget.

Sir Topham led them over to the engine in question. It was covered by so many men in overalls it looked almost like a picnic sandwich being consumed by ants.

"Mr. Castillo?" Sir Topham called to no one that Emily could readily see. "I need a moment of your time if you could spare it."

"One moment, sir! I'll be right with you!"

That accent was one Emily didn't often hear. Being that they were on a British island the voices that passed through were usually of some English dialect- sometimes, Irish or Scottish (that said nothing of the Welsh workers in the Quarry). But this…this was much more _exotic_. Something Spanish, she guessed. But when had father employed a _Spaniard_?

The man, Mr. Castillo, came around the side of the locomotive then and Emily was transfixed in a way she didn't think possible. He was unlike anyone she had seen in person before; tall, skin as rich light brown as burnt sugar. His face was chiseled as though someone had carved it out of marble, his eyebrows dark and narrowed, his forearms (exposed by the sleeves rolled up the elbow) scarred and muscular from his work. She had never known the like in a man before.

And yet, for all about him that was devastatingly handsome to the point of intimidation, he greeted them with a smile that was the warmest and most sincere she remembered seeing in a long time.

"Good morning, Sir!" Mr. Castillo said with every bit of genuine enthusiasm while Emily would've thought him much more stressed for all the manual labor he had to do. "I see you've brought some guests today. Welcome, both of you!"

Sir Topham smiled back in a way Emily knew meant that her father approved of him on a personal level. _Collecting sons_ , is how she described it, being that Gordon and James were such disappointments to him.

Emily and Thomas were introduced to Mr. Castillo and, much to Emily's satisfaction, he expressed the honor of having the daughter of Sir Topham Hatt present in the depot. Even if he was just buttering up to a future employer, Emily didn't discriminate when it came to praise.

Thomas was then sent away for his preliminary training as Sir Topham received an unexpected phone call from the main office.

"Mr. Castillo, if you could just brief Emily on your duties and the function of the Steamworks, I'd be most grateful."

He left then, as if anticipating that Mr. Castillo would react with the exact look of apprehension now clear on his face. Emily wasn't offended: she didn't really want to hear about this place any more than he seemed to want to tell her about it.

"It's okay, Mr. Castillo," she assured. "You seem quite busy, I'd hate to interrupt the flow of work. Besides, what's to explain? You fix steam engines. It's not that complicated."

He laughed, more heartily than she would've thought appropriate to what was said. Offended at the idea that he might be making fun of her ignorance she grimaced and demanded to know, " _What_ is so funny?"

"You're right, Miss Hatt, I _do_ fix engines…but it's not that simple. Sometime when I'm not busy I'd love to explain everything that we do. Your father knows the ins and outs of engine repair and maintenence better than any Controller I've ever met. I would think it essential knowledge for someone who plans to take over in his stead."

Now it was Emily's turn to laugh, albeit in something of a scoff.

"You're starting to sound eerily like him, Mr. Castillo."

He said with a bit of a smirk, " _Please_ , call me Victor."

Sir Topham returned about then, reporting that he and Emily needed to head back to the Station on account of a visitor. When asked if all had been covered, Victor helpfully proposed,

"Sir, I was thinking…you know so very much about the Steamworks and how engines function. I truly believe Miss Hatt would benefit from a more comprehensive education. I would like to invite her to come work with us soon, just for a day."

Emily's mouth fell open in shock. How could he even suggest such a thing? She knew _nothing_ of steam engines. Besides, it all looked…so dirty and disgusting. She would _not_ be expected to run about like a grease monkey in overalls.

"Father, I don't think that's such a good idea. I mean, surely I'd just slow down work, I-"

"Nonsense," Sir Topham Hatt said, which only gave Emily momentary relief as she thought he meant it for Victor's suggestion. "I think that's a _wonderful_ idea, Mr. Castillo. Emily could _certainl_ y benefit from a day of hard work. Tomorrow, then? I understand things will be a bit slower."

"Yes Sir, tomorrow is perfect." Victor then looked to her with what she swore was a smile of smug victory. Having brothers, she knew it well. "I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Hatt."

If Emily's glare could kill Victor would already be six feet under. The very _nerve_ of this man. What did he aim to do, scare her away from the position? For as much as she had fought her father on having to inherit this legacy in the first place…now, all of a sudden, she was determined to prove that she was the best, she could take any challenge thrown at her with the grace of a lady.

Sir Topham then bid Emily follow him to the car. This she did, but not without another glare sent over her shoulder at Victor, warning him of what was to come tomorrow.

Victor answered this with a friendly wave and another warm smile before returning to work.

* * *

Gordon was stepping out of the main office when he saw the most horrific sight imaginable; two horses standing there on the pristine, green lawn of the Sodor station. Father would've surely blown his top at the idea of the grounds being dirtied, what with all the important passengers arriving today. Their handler stood nearby through Gordon could not see who it was.

"I beg your pardon!" he shouted, his voice booming across the field. "These animals must be moved _immediately_! This is a railway station, not a farm!"

The handler peeked her head around the steeds, revealing herself to be none other than Caitlin, the woman he had knocked over earlier.

"Oh, you again!" she said with a smile, as if recognizing an old friend. Her lack of concern for what he had asked put him off. "Now I've figured it out. You must be the Station Master!"

He huffed in irritation and marched right up to Caitlin and her steeds.

"That I am, Miss, and I'd be much obliged if you moved your thoroughbreds to more suitable territory. They'll make an absolute mess of things here!"

"Ah, so you've an eye for horses?" She patted the nose of the one to her right and looked to it with the sort of admiration a mother has for her child. "They are indeed thoroughbreds, mine and me brother, Connor."

" _Of course_ I know my breeds," Gordon rolled his eyes. "I can English ride as well as any proper gentleman."

Caitlin's eyes lit up.

"I don't suppose you'd fancy a race, Mister…?"

"Hatt, _Gordon_ Hatt. And I would _not_ fancy a race, I've much more important things to do!"

Caitlin's perpetual smile dropped into a frown. "That's a shame. I need all the practice I can get before the big race and I haven't a clue where Connor went…besides, I know all his tricks now…would be much better to practice with a rider I've just met!"

It was true Gordon had enjoyed horse riding in school, had even been the best in his class. It was also true that he was _incredibly_ competitive and knew that besting a professional in a race would be just the sort of ego boost he needed right now. His father was off tooling about with Emily and no doubt whoever else he had just hired and otherwise apathetic to what his eldest son was doing.

"Very well," he agreed. "If only to get these creatures off the lawn."

Caitlin offered Gordon the horse of her brother and he felt some amount of satisfaction in that. Perhaps it was the way Connor had reprimanded him back at the station, as if he hadn't any idea who he addressed, as if he saw only some clumsy train station employee. _Now_ Gordon rode his saddle- _what of it, Connor?_

"Ready?" she asked as soon as they were both seated, her voice bubbling with excitement.

"I've _been_ ready for as long as it's taken you to mount your saddle."

"Then we're off!"

And just like that, before Gordon had any real idea what was going on, Caitlin and her horse shot away like an arrow from a bow. He gasped and quickly moved his into action, galloping after her. They rode for a time down a forest trail, Caitlin keeping the lead and weaving in front so that her opponent hadn't any chance to pass. He had to admit –albeit privately, to himself- her moves were expert and unlike anything he had been taught at school.

"Gordon, we're in luck!" Caitlin called over her shoulder.

"Oh?" he shouted back. "Why's that?"

"There's a gate ahead! Yours is good with jumping, just let him lead!"

He could barely hear what she had said to him over the galloping of hooves and rush of air but it came clear the moment Caitlin and her horse lifted up and over the gate to a pasture with perfect ease. Gordon panicked, unprepared and out of practice, but Connor's horse saw him through. The jump was smooth, still, Gordon was visibly shaken by the time he landed and joined up alongside his competition.

"A _beautiful_ jump!" Caitlin commended. "Perhaps you'd have been better served as a rider than a station master."

Gordon's cheeks flushed, both from the adrenaline of the race and the sincere compliment. For as much of an ego as he had, it was rare that anyone offered him praise other than himself.

"Well…the race has yet to be won. I'll reevaluate my career choices should I succeed."

It was an uncharacteristically humble admission, made only because Caitlin didn't know him as well for his pride as did everyone else.

"Wise, indeed. Perhaps I'll stop going easy on you then."

With a giggle she sped forward again, once more taking the lead. Gordon couldn't help but laugh along, no longer caring that much who won or lost in the end.

* * *

Sir Topham Hatt hummed a cheerful tune as he entered his partially darkened office and hung up his hat. He'd only have a short while to prepare before Miss Botti arrived, afforded to him only because Emily was keeping the Duke and Duchess of Boxford entertained (he'd have Gordon do it on any other occasion but he couldn't _find_ the boy anywhere and sincerely hoped that was caused by his being busy).

When he sidled over to the mirror to check his appearance the small orange light of a match flickered into view just behind him at his desk. Startled, he nearly jumped out of his skin turning around to see what ghostly apparition was responsible.

He found himself _wishing_ it was a ghost when the figure became clear.

"Hello, Bertram," crooned Diesel 10, his thin lips curving into a sly smile as he exhaled the smoke from his cigar. He looked not unlike a dragon with the furls of cigar smoke curling about his serpentine head.

Diesel 10 had a real name, of course, or so Sir Topham supposed. It had been long ago forgotten in favor of his more inhuman moniker, a name that conveyed the source of his empire; he was the head controller of his own booming railway and a fleet of entirely diesel engines, a business that was slowly starting to creep into Sodor like a plague of rats.

It wasn't that Sir Topham minded diesel engines entirely (he had a few of his own), his apprehension sat more with the man responsible for them, the man who now sat at his desk with every bit of entitlement in the world. Diesel 10 was not merciful, he was not trustworthy or kind. He could be charming, but it was naught but a thin disguise over the ruthlessness that lay beneath. Diesel 10 was not the sort of man one wanted as an enemy. Sir Topham knew this...but he was not one to be cowed by intimidation.

Holding said cigar was Diesel 10's metal claw, a kind of prosthetic arm to replace the one he had lost in a mysterious railway accident. It was often covered by the fabric of a sleeve, but the sharp fingers always poked through and Diesel 10 _always_ made a point of making its presence known. It was only apropos to wonder how often that prosthetic was used as a weapon.

"You've picked a very poor time to engage me," Sir Topham said, turning on the office lamps so that his enemy could no longer lurk in the darkness. Doing so revealed the two big henchmen that never left Diesel 10's side, Danny Diesel and Paxton. They stood on either side of him like Easter Island statues, muscular arms crossed over their chests. They were more of a testament to Diesel 10's cowardice than anything else.

Diesel 10 shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Now, that's _no way_ to greet an old friend, particularly one that has to come to check on you in your old age. I'm sure I've done far more for you in these past few moments of conversation than your children have in their entire lives."

"We are _not_ friends," Sir Topham Hatt corrected. "What have you truly come for, sir? Let us be done with it, as I have a great many things to tend to before the day is out."

"You'd be wise to be my friend, Bertram," Diesel 10 exhaled another long plume of cigar smoke, smirked, and then tapped the excess ashes on to the papers stacked on the desk. "The alternative can be dangerous. Besides, there's a great many things I can do for you. I hope you've done some deeper introspection as concerns my offer."

"I have not. My answer remains the same. You shall _not_ have the Northwest Railway, not today or any other, no matter the sum offered."

Sir Topham stood firm with an unflinching expression, even as Diesel 10 rose from the desk chair and came to stand much closer to him than was anywhere near comfortable. He blew a puff of smoke into the smaller man's face.

"You know I always get what I want, Bertie." His tone of voice was much darker now as he stared down the smaller man. "By _hook_ or by _crook_. I've tried to be patient, I've tried to be kind and generous…alas, you are far too headstrong for your own good. For whatever comes next, please do remember you had chance enough to avoid it."

"I am not swayed in the _least_ by your idle threats!" Sir Topham all but shouted back, to which Danny laughed.

"Idle? You know the boss means every word he says. I don't envy you, chum."

Diesel 10 ignored them both as he lifted a couple of the blinds on the office window to see that Alicia Botti's train had just arrived. A knowing grin stretched out once more on his snake-like face.

"Oh, _Bertie_. You're not quite the paragon of virtue everyone fancies you to be, are you? Honorable Sir Topham…the unfaithful husband of the poor Lady Jane Norramby."

Danny and Paxton chuckled at that, knowing enough about the private correspondence of Sir Topham and Miss Botti to get what Diesel 10 suggested. Diesel 10, on the other hand, just stared down his foe with a terrifying amount of delight at how deep this dug, for even stalwart Sir Topham Hatt could not hide his shame.

"You see?" Diesel 10 continued. "We're not that different you and I. At the very least, I do not parade about _pretending_ to be a hero. Some might say _you_ are the true villain in this equation for that very reason."

Satisfied with the result of this meeting, Diesel 10 turned away and bid his men to follow him out.

"We're off, Bertie," he said over his shoulder. "Time is not completely spent yet. If you do indeed come to your senses, you will let me know, yes? Give Alicia my regards."

* * *

Caitlin and Gordon tied the horses to the nearby fence to let them rest and feed on the coastal long grass before walking down to the beach. If either of them had actually won the race it was no longer a matter of importance. Gordon couldn't remember a time he'd had more fun, felt freer of the burdens he constantly carried. As the member of a noble family and the rightful heir of a railway inheritance spanning generations, there had always been a lot for him in terms of expectation. Every hour of every day was spent pulling an invisible weight.

Not as such now. He could only guess that had something to do with Caitlin being a stranger. It was an easier thing to rationalize than to imagine he might actually be…making himself vulnerable to someone.

"You've been riding horses all your life then, have you?" he asked as they strolled.

"I have, Connor and I. And me mother rode long before that. She was Dublin's reigning champion rider for six years in a row!"

"Impressive. It…must be difficult to live in such a shadow," Gordon did his best to pretend to be farther removed from such an idea than he truly was. "Even for as much as you are talented."

Caitlin shrugged. "No, not really. I don't ride to prove anything, I ride because I am only truly myself on the back of a horse. You might say it's something of a spiritual connection."

Gordon chuckled, though there was a twinge of nervous surprise that she would admit something so personal. It wasn't like anyone he had known to say such things without reservation (or at all).

"I've never known such a passion," he admitted. "Mine has always been the path of those before me. I'm the grandson of an Earl, you see...and the Hatt men have been ruling the railways for on near a century. I'm to succeed and bring more of the same honor, though…I've been less than successful. Father would sooner have my younger sister take over the railway than I. I suppose…in light of everything, he's wise to choose _anyone_ over me."

Caitlin didn't ask as to what Gordon was referring, though it would seem from the way she refrained and looked to him with knowing sympathy that she could just as easily guess.

"All the more opportunity for you then. Without that expectation over your head, perhaps you can better find out what your passion is. We musn't apply ourselves to anything we don't love, that's what mother always said."

Gordon stood straighter and puffed out his chest, for with this comfort came a returned sense of Hatt confidence.

"She seems a wise woman, your mother. I must thank her then. And you, Miss O'Leary."

Caitlin looked to him with amused confusion. "For what then, Mr. Hatt?"

"For allowing me to unburden myself."

They shared a smile then that was different from the ones that had come before, one that spoke of a potential they were nowhere close to exploring _just yet_. It was to be short lived in any case, for it was then that Caitlin took a peek at her watch.

"Oh dear, we've been out and about much longer than I realized. Six o'clock already, Connor will be wringing his wrists!"

"Six-...did you say, _six o'clock_? Oh good god, it can't be."

"Is there something-"

But Caitlin hadn't time to find out what, exactly, was wrong, as Gordon was already hurrying back to his steed.

"Fancy another race?" he called out over his shoulder, panicked. "I'll be racing regardless. Must get back to Knapford, as soon as possible!"


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N** : I so appreciate ALL the feedback so far. It seems like people are enjoying this concept and story which brings me much delight in having chosen to share it with the world after all (and there was some HEAVY deliberating, believe you me). Thank you all for waiting, I hope this next chapter was worth the week of wait. The plot (hopefully) thickens, albeit among a lot of character/relationship building dialogue. I love mah dialogue.

* * *

It was early in the morning and not yet time for any of the trains to start pulling into Knapford- as such, Thomas took the opportunity to rush to the main office. The mail trucks would've made their deliveries last night and he was eager to get ahold of his mother's first letter, eager to write her back a reply of how wonderful things had been for him so far.

"Excuse me," he said to the only person he could see behind the desk, a young woman doing a once over of the telephone switchboard. Her thick waves of strawberry blonde curls that fell down her shoulders were all that he could see of her now. "Excuse me, Miss, I was wondering if the mail had arrived and where I might get my letters?"

She turned then, her bright green eyes widening at the sight of him.

"At your personal address I would think!"

"Well…yes, that'd be true if I had a personal address. I don't yet though. There was an understanding…they'd leave my letters here for me until I-...found a place to live?"

"Oh, I see! You poor thing. Yes, some have been put aside for you. You must be Mr. Huntington."

Because she went to work straight away looking for his letters Thomas couldn't really find it him to be too indignant about her unwarranted pity. Still, he didn't _like_ admitting how penniless he was to perfect strangers. It was a temporary condition but an insecurity nonetheless.

"Expecting anything important?" she asked with an eager look as she handed over his small collection of mail. It wasn't _really_ her business but she had been kind and helpful and there was no reason for Thomas to be rude.

"Yes…a letter from my mother. She'll get so worried if I don't write her back quickly, you know? God forbid what might happen if one gets lost in the mail."

He chuckled to himself (nervously, maybe) at the very idea. The young woman continued to stare at him.

"Uh…what's your name, Miss?" It seemed just as polite an attempt as any to get her to _stop looking_ at him like that.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" she giggled, hiding her face a little out of embarrassment. "I'm Miss Sinclair. Or just Rosie. Rosie's fine. I work the switchboard here part time. It's an extremely busy job, but I guess we're all very busy around here, aren't we?"

"Oh, yes, absolutely…" Thomas' reply was a bit absent, as he was moreover focused on flipping through the stack. "Her letter doesn't seem to be in here…are you sure that was all of them, Miss Rosie?"

Looking shocked and disheartened, Rosie checked once more in the drawer the letters had been stored. She shook her head after a moment, apologetic.

"I'm sorry…that seems to be all of them…but wait a moment! I see the mailman! He usually transports local letters but perhaps your mother's got put in by mistake!"

Thomas beamed at that, hoping she was right.

"Thank you, Rosie, I'll go ask!"

And off he went out the door, after the small man with the burlap parcel bag.

"Sir! Excuse me, sir! Mr. Mailman!" he called, unaware of how strange he must have looked to the awaiting passengers, running about after a mailman in his porter's uniform.

The mailman turned at the sound of Thomas' calls but at the worst possible time. He didn't see the big burly man heading his way and bumped right into him.

"Oy, watch where you're goin', postman!" the burly man huffed, pushing the mailman aside with so much force (or too much for his small body) that he fell hard to the ground and spilled the contents of his messenger bag.

Thomas gasped, hardly believing what he saw. Sodor had been so notorious for the generosity of its people. There was _no way_ this big wretch of a man could've been native to the island!

He rushed to the side of the fallen mailman first and helped him to his feet. Rosie, who had apparently seen the whole ordeal from the office, was already outside gathering the spilled letters.

"Are you alright, Percy?" Rosie asked the mailman, to which he answered with a nod.

"Yes...thank you, it was just a tumble. And thanks to you too, Mister."

Mailman Percy's smile of gratitude was gentle and kind, in no way did he seem anything but mortified for what happened. Feeling as though he had just witnessed a rhinoceros kick a rabbit, Thomas turned his fury to the burly man that had continued on his way.

"Hey, you! The big brute that knocked my friend over! I'm talking to _you_!"

Behind him he could hear Percy squeak and Rosie whisper discouragements but Thomas wasn't listening. The burly man might have been ten times his size, but he did not abide by bullies.

"You ' _wot_?" the burly man growled, turning to see who had such nerve. "You talkin' to me, you little _weasel_?"

The burly man was making his way over now and Thomas could've sworn he felt the ground shake every time the man took a step. He started to feel real fear, knowing what the man could do to him if he wanted…but he couldn't let that kind of behavior go unaddressed.

"I _am_ talking to you! I want you to apologize to my friend!"

"He ought to apologize to me!" The burly man was very close now, a mere foot or two away from Thomas and clenching his fists as if preparing to use them. "He wasn't watching where he was _going_!"

"Well neither were you! It was an accident and you knocked him over like a stack of cards! Are you so _dense_ that you have to use force instead of words?"

Percy and Rosie's collective gasp and the burly man's look of enraged shock let Thomas know he was in for it now. It was either take the beating that was coming or run and well…he was not going to be known as a coward.

But instead of a hard fist colliding with his face as Thomas had expected, there was instead the voice of yet another stranger and the permeating smell of cigar smoke.

"Now, now, Daniel, this is no place to be uncouth."

If there had been a sense of collective fear when the burly man confronted them it was nothing compared to _this_. Thomas opened his eyes to see the owner of the voice; a tall, thin man with a sort of twisted suavity in his neatly combed, greying hair and finely-tailored suit. For as much as he seemed a gentleman of distinction, the cigar he held in his metal claw (of all things!) suited him. The way the smoke curled around his serpentine face and sharp eyes made Thomas feel he had stumbled upon a dragon in human form. His was not the power of mere physical strength, but something much, _much_ darker and more potent.

The burly man backed off without hesitation but Thomas couldn't feel safe as the thin smoking man stared him down.

"Young man, you've quite the backbone to speak in such a way to Danny Diesel," the thin man observed, either intentionally or not blowing smoke in Thomas' face. "You must be new here."

Thomas nodded. "I am, sir…but I've always been led to believe the island of Sodor was a friendly place. What I witnessed your friend do to mailman Percy was not acceptable. Not anywhere."

The thin man smirked and Thomas could not decipher its cause or intent. Trying to read him was like trying to read a book with type the same color as its pages.

"I'm inclined to agree. My men know only blood and steel, they're far too incompetent to reason with. Much like guard dogs, don't you think? Must keep them on their leashes. Must throw them a bone or two when they behave. I find I prefer that to…foolish acts of bravery."

The man's tone turned into something of a hiss and though Thomas was still unable to guess his intents, he _could_ gather that the man did not like him; he gathered from the way Percy and Rosie had recoiled that being this man's enemy could be very bad news indeed.

He didn't really know what else to say as the man stared him down, as if threatening him with his very gaze. Thomas was finding it effective, all of a sudden losing his resolve…until yet again, he was interrupted.

"Diesel 10," said the booming voice of Mr. Gordon Hatt, the station master. "This is a very _odd_ place for you to be. I would think your railway would require your immediate and _continued_ presence."

Thomas didn't know very much about Sir Topham Hatt's eldest son, save for the failure of his business ventures in London ( _everyone_ knew about that), but he did feel quite safe with him here, as did Rosie and Percy for how they calmed.

"Pigs will soar through the sky before I take any kind of management advice from you, Master Gordon," the man, Thomas now knew to be named _Diesel 10_ , sneered, though he wasted no time turning on his heel and gesturing for his henchman to follow him. Thomas wondered if Diesel 10 left on account of being intimidated by Gordon Hatt or if he was spurred by another cause entirely.

He hadn't time to really think it over, as Gordon then turned his attention to the group of them.

"As for the _rest_ of you! Miss Sinclair, the phones are already ringing off the hook and I am much dissatisfied to see no one in there answering them."

"Yessir, sorry sir," Rosie murmured as she scuttled off back to her post.

"Mr. Monday, I'm sure the residents of Sodor would appreciate their mail _on time_. And you, Mr. Huntington! The morning express will be arriving _any_ moment and I will not have my Porters lollygagging about with such important visitors to tend to. Learn what is expected of you as employee of this railway and return to your assignment!"

The cheeky side of Thomas wanted to argue that he _only_ left to check his mail and got sidetracked when he tried to help someone…but given his newness here and how important this job was to him, he refrained from defying his superior.

"Yes sir," he agreed dutifully, to which Gordon huffed before marching off elsewhere.

"You had better get back to work," said Percy as he straightened his hat. "You're new. Every new employee of the railway is on a strict probationary status until they can prove themselves to Sir Topham Hatt. He runs a tight ship here! Or, well-…train, I suppose."

Thomas nodded and laughed, maybe a bit out of relief.

"Oh, I know. I've known that since I first took an interest in the railway. I'm Thomas, by the way-…oh! I just remembered why I flagged you down. I don't suppose you might have a letter for me in there?"

Percy took a glance through his bag, sidling through the various letters in such a way that suggested he was quite used to making sense of the jumble.

"I do, as a matter of fact!" he said after a time. "Here you go, Thomas. I better be on my way now. Thanks again for your help."

The two waved goodbye and Thomas continued on to work, grateful to still be in one piece.

* * *

Victor knew it had been a risky move, suggesting that Emily Hatt come work alongside them in the Steamworks. He knew full well that this could backfire, that it might be decided he had put her in a dangerous situation (or something of the like) and he'd have to suffer the consequences. It was possible, but…he only took such a risk because of his trust and faith in his employer's integrity. Sir Topham Hatt liked him, bragged often of how proficient a Chief Engineer he was, how he had never seen the like. He did not think theirs was the kind of professional relationship to be tossed aside just because of a spoiled daughter's complaints.

That aside, this was _important_. An employer that knew nothing of the conditions her workers were facing would be bad news for all of them. For however proficient Emily Hatt may have been at management, she was too far detached and would need the proper education before he would feel confident in seeing her take her father's mantle. Victor would make the plunge on everyone's behalf because that was his nature as a natural born leader.

Work volume remained slow for the morning and, for once, Victor was grateful for that. It would be a necessity to making sure this meeting of worlds went as smoothly as possible.

Emily Hatt arrived on time, due in no small part to the fact that her father had driven her, Victor was sure. She looked absolutely furious in the standard uniform overalls, her makeup and jewelry gone, her hair tied up, the same as every female employee. Everything about this was so removed from her personal realm of being that it only confirmed Victor's certainty that she needed to be here.

"Good morning!" he called, meeting her at the front of the depot. "We're _so pleased_ to have you with us, Miss Hatt."

That was something of a lie. Many of his workers had expressed disdain and intimidation for having Sir Topham Hatt's daughter work alongside them and were only grudgingly amenable after Victor had explained his reasoning.

Emily scowled at him.

"Mr. Castillo, I maintain that you're making a very big mistake having me here. I know nothing about any of this, I'm only going to be a hazard."

"It's Victor, _please_ ," he sighed. "And I must respectfully disagree with you. I think you stand to learn quite a bit from us today."

He led her inside, towards the first assignment. He had already gone over with the workers present how Miss Hatt's responsibilities would cycle through for the day and hoped they could stick to that schedule without any problems.

"Now, don't be worried. Kevin is going to keep an eye on you and make sure you've got everything you need. But…where has he gotten off to now? _Ay, dios_. Kevin? Kevin, I told you Miss Hatt would be arriving this morning!"

There was a loud clanging somewhere in the depot, followed by a sheepish, "Sorry, boss!" before Kevin could be seen whizzing over to them in his unwieldy yellow crane. Without even so much as a warning, Victor all but lifted Emily from the ground as he ushered her to his other side just before Kevin could accidentally run her over (not for the first time).

"Sorry boss, Miss Hatt!" Kevin apologized again.

Emily looked to Victor with nothing less than pure shock.

"If _he's_ going to be helping me then I'll surely be dead by the end of the day!" she said low enough that Kevin couldn't hear. Victor knew she hadn't intended it to be funny but he laughed anyway, to which she rolled her eyes. "I'm glad you find my safety a laughing matter, Mr. Castillo."

A very tempting rebuttal of ' _don't be so dramatic_ ' played in his mind but Victor knew better than to vocalize it.

Kevin jumped out of his crane –much to the relief of everyone present- and gestured for Emily to follow him.

"Come on, Miss Hatt! I've got your first assignment right over here. Isn't this exciting? Your first day in the Steamworks! It's the best place to work on Sodor!"

"Is it indeed?" Emily huffed with no small amount of haughty doubt as she followed Kevin away. "Mr. Castillo has made me less than confident of that."

Victor sighed and massaged his temples in frustration, preparing himself for the difficulty having Miss Hatt around would bring to his day.

* * *

Sir Topham Hatt was keeping his focus evenly divided between his pocket watch and eldest son. It was nuisance enough that Gordon had decided running off and riding horses in the middle of the day was acceptable, that he had to keep watch over his adult son to ensure the behavior wasn't repeated, but it wasn't all; the Donovan Sisters would be arriving _any_ moment on the next express and if Alicia (who should have been at her flat but had a gift for popping up unexpectedly) happened to see him giving them attention it would be his ruin. She didn't much care for them as it was, even less when her darling Bertie was paying either of them too much mind.

He had decided there was nothing for it but to take the risk, when…he saw the new employee, Thomas, working nearby as Porter. Recalling how charming the boy had been, an idea flew into his hat.

"Mr. Huntington!" he called as he approached.

Thomas jumped a little at the sound of his name being announced so authoritatively. He stood straight at attention.

"Sir? Yes, sir! What can I do for you, sir?"

"I have a special assignment for you, Mr. Huntington, regarding two very important passengers on the next express. I don't suppose you've heard of the Donovan Duo?"

Thomas paused for a moment as he thought. "Hmm…Donovan Duo…they're a sister act, aren't they? I think they're the ones my mother enjoys listening to so much!"

Sir Topham nodded, pleased.

"Yes, yes, good, that's them. They'll be pleased you know their work. They'll be arriving on the next express and it would be very helpful if you took personal responsibility for their bags. They enjoy company and discussion, so don't be afraid to be charming."

Sir Topham was certain the sisters would take so dearly to a handsome young man that engaged them in conversation, more than they would be interested in vying for _his_ attention. His suspicions were very correct…at first, anyway. The sisters arrived shortly after their discussion and Thomas rushed to their side, introducing himself as he took their bags.

"What a helpful young man!" Clarabel Donovan exclaimed her hands flying to her cheeks in amazement.

"A _very_ helpful young man," Annie Donovan agreed. "True gentlemen are rare these days, Thomas. Even when they run a railway, _some men_ don't think it fitting to acknowledge their most important passengers!"

It took Sir Topham a moment to see what she was alluding to, as he was so busy with making sure to notice if Alicia arrived on the scene.

"Oh, uh…! Annie, Clarabel! So good to see you two again, I'm afraid I was a bit preoccupied. Lots to think about, you know!"

This was hardly justification enough for the sister act, both of whom turned up their noses and 'harumphed' in indignation. The two of them came close to rivaling Alicia in the amount of attention they required from him.

"You will owe us _both_ a dance at the Gala to make up for your cheek!" Annie warned him before blowing Thomas a kiss goodbye. Clarabel cooed, "And _you_ , thank you so dearly for your help, young man. I do hope we cross paths again!"

It was only when the Donovan Sisters had disappeared that Sir Topham all but collapsed on a nearby bench. He fanned himself with the newspaper he had picked up earlier, trying to cool himself from the heat of stress.

Thomas couldn't help but notice his employer's fatigue.

"Excuse me, Sir…I don't mean to pry, but…it really seemed as if you were trying to avoid being seen by the Donovan Sisters."

Sir Topham sighed and motioned for Thomas to join him on the bench. This he did, albeit with some amount of reluctance as sitting about wasn't something his employer would've encouraged on any other day.

"I have a remarkable gift for _overbooking_ myself, Thomas," Sir Topham admitted. "Be it with women, business, my children…I am always endeavoring to do it all. People know me as a man that _can_ do it all. It's a troublesome reputation…you see, when I _can't_ do it all, I leave great disappointment in my wake. There's nothing I despise more than disappointment."

Sir Topham knew it wasn't the most professional thing to confide like this in one of his porters, but there had been something about Thomas from the beginning, a certain indefinable trustworthiness that he couldn't seem to second-guess. He barely knew the boy, had only met him the day before! It didn't seem to matter, he trusted him all the same.

It could have been desperation, Sir Topham knew this. He hadn't really anyone to talk to this way, having to always give the impression of being strong and charismatic and in control.

"That…does sound difficult," Thomas agreed, uncertainty clear in his voice. "I guess…even really successful people can have a hard time of things."

"That they can, dear boy. More so than most, perhaps…you see, where there is great success there is even greater responsibility."

"Huh…I never would've thought that. I think I still want to be successful though, like you!"

Sir Topham Hatt smiled at that, seldom as it was that he ever got sincere compliments. He didn't think even his own children looked up to him in such a way.

"How would you like to achieve your success, Thomas?"

"I-…I'm not really sure," Thomas admitted, sheepish. "…you know, I'd like to hope it would be in the railway business somehow. I'd like to see the world by train, learn all there is to know about them. I'd _really_ like to drive an engine someday!"

It would be impossible to describe just how touched Sir Topham was to see the light in Thomas' eyes as he spoke of rail travel. It reminded him so very much of his younger self, the boy who dedicated hours of service to learning about and experiencing locomotives. The love of the railway was one that had been passed down now from grandfather to father and now to son…and, perhaps, where it would end, and not only because his children (even Emily) didn't seem to share the same passion.

The world was slowly, ever so slowly, moving away from the railway vision Sir Topham Hatt had fallen in love with so long ago. Yet, something about Thomas' palpable excitement, the evidence of his enthusiasm in the way he spoke, gave him implausible faith in the future. With everything that had been happening, it was enough for Sir Topham to invest hope.

"I do hope to see you on one of these engines soon enough, Thomas," he said with an even prouder smile. "Keep up the good work and it won't be long."

Thomas seemed so very pleased and surprised by this. Sir Topham only wished he had seen the same response with _any_ of his children.

The moment of bonding was brought to an abrupt end when there was a distinct change in the general air of the station and Sir Topham was approached by a frantic worker. They spoke in hurried whispers and hushed tones.

Sir Topham snapped-to quickly, trying not to make his horror evident. If what the man said was true and not an exaggeration (and he had the futile hope that it was just that) this would be the worst catastrophe the railway had faced.

"Call emergency services. I need engines equipped for hoses on every junction not yet reached- I know they'll only make it to so many. Let Mr. Castillo know there will be an influx of work. Go, now, see it done!"

As the worker ran to make the calls, Sir Topham Hatt turned to Thomas and said, "Tell Gordon there's been an emergency, I haven't the time," and then rushed as fast as he could to his car.

* * *

Victor was starting to question his own judgment. It seemed even with the lack of work Emily Hatt found things to complain about, ways to sustain minor injuries and otherwise be the absolute nuisance he had feared she would be. Slightly burning her hand was the final straw, the last thing she was willing to suffer before taking it out on him.

"This is absurd!" she announced as Victor worked on dressing her very small wound. It hadn't been necessary but Emily had _insisted_. "I told you and father time and time again I shouldn't be here! You couldn't have found a worse place for me to be!"

Some residual patience and sense of self-preservation stopped him from assuring her that neither he nor anyone else wanted her to be here anymore than _she_ wanted to be here.

"The very fact that you are complaining like this tells me there's no better place for you to be, Miss Hatt. This is only a _very small_ glimpse of what we experience every day in the Steamworks. I refuse to believe this is beyond your understanding just because God has seen fit to bless you with such a comfortable life. We have not all been so fortunate!"

There was little Victor could say that did not offend the very foundations of her being and this was no exception. He couldn't quite understand the reasoning for that. Did she not already cite her privileged background as the reason she was unfit for work?

"How dare you!" she hissed. "The very nerve to insinuate that _I'm_ ignorant just because I have been isolated on this island and the estate all my life. It's hardly been _my_ choice and it hasn't stopped me from educating myself!"

"You are being educated _now_!" he barked back, firm enough to draw in the attention of his workers. Victor couldn't be bothered to notice. "If you would pay attention half as much as you complain, you might learn something! ¡Ay, no puedo creer esto!"

Maybe it was the natural transition back into his mother tongue that silenced her or the fact that maybe he had gotten to something like reason in her brain. Either way, Emily Hatt went silent and at not a moment too soon. Victor was called to the phone.

Emily turned on her heel and huffed back to where she had been helping Kevin. He gave her something of a terrified, albeit sympathetic look.

"The boss really isn't that grumpy most of the time," he offered. "I think he's just stressed. He's usually so nice and patient. I'm sure you just caught him on a bad day!"

Emily rolled her eyes.

"Your boss is trying to scare me away. Either because he thinks I'm too young or should be married with children instead, he wants to discourage me."

If there was one thing that fueled and inspired Emily to do her absolute best, it was when someone doubted her. Her childhood had been nothing _but_ doubt, be it her brothers doubting that she could run up a hill or pick up something heavy, be it her family members doubting that she would do much more than marry a dignitary, be it her father doubting she could make a career on her own, it defined her every day.

However, being a fusion of the ambitious Hatts and determined Norrambys, Emily's response was not to give up, not to be defined by that doubt, but to do her all to disprove and utterly destroy it. As such, she rolled up her sleeves and resumed the task at hand with determination.

It was about then that Victor returned from his phone call and made a panicked announcement.

"Gentlemen! We have an emergency today like none we've faced before. The signal boxes of the Northwest Railway, _all_ of them, have caught fire. Many trains have been derailed and damaged as a result. Our work today will be _immense_! I'm calling for more hands, but I need everyone doing their absolute best and giving me their greatest work yet. If we all work together efficiently, we can help the railway sooner recover. Can I count on everyone?"

There was cheering and clapping of hands that didn't go unnoticed by Emily. She would've expected groans, maybe _some_ show of reluctance, but apparently Victor's management brought about a very different response. It would be a lie to say she wasn't impressed.

Following this speech he approached her. She knew what he was going to say.

"Miss Hatt, in light of what's happened I've no choice but to-"

"Don't you _dare_ send me away, Mr. Castillo," she countered, the look in her eyes not allowing for argument. " _You_ need all the help you can get and _I_ need you to understand that I'm not to be underestimated. I'm a fast learner. Put me to work, I'll ask for help if I need it."

Victor said nothing, he just nodded in reluctant agreement and left to do what needed to be done. There was no time to argue in any case.

"Don't just stand there, Kevin," Emily ordered to him suddenly. He wasn't really sure what to make of her sudden change in attitude. "Come help me. We need to show Mr. Castillo and everyone else that I'm more than just a silly little rich girl."

Kevin smiled at that, for as much as he liked Victor he couldn't help but be inspired by Emily's ambition.

"Right away, boss! I mean, Miss Hatt!"

* * *

Sir Topham Hatt drove up to the Wellsworth Junction just as Chief Fireman, Belle Marchand, was dousing the last of the flames. Cranes were positioned nearby, hoisting the wreckage of trains on to their flatbeds. The sky, which for a time had been nothing more than a blanket of soot, was just beginning to clear. He had never seen the like, not in all the years spent with the railway.

"I've word that all the fires have been extinguished, Sir!" she announced, shutting off the huge hose in her grasp. He sighed as he came to stand beside her and take stock of the charred building that once was the signal box. Her news was of little relief, given all the damage caused and everything they would have to do in the wake. He could only hope no lives were claimed in the process but he knew the likelihood said otherwise.

"Excellent work Chief Marchand," he commended nonetheless. "You and your skills of delegation are a sincere blessing to the island. We couldn't have stopped this without you."

She smiled in gratitude, though it was a bit tired and solemn. There wasn't much to smile about now, successful extinguishing or no.

"Thank you, sir."

" _Even still_ …I think whoever masterminded this has accomplished their goal. This will put a significant strain on the railway."

It wasn't even a point of speculation. Sir Topham Hatt didn't need a straightforward confession to know that this had been planned and carried out accordingly; junction boxes didn't just light up one after the other by pure happenstance. _Someone_ intended to send him a message and Sir Topham was quite certain he knew who that _someone_ was.

Diesel 10 meant to have the North Western Railway and he knew how to hit his opponent where it would hurt. Not only was the railway damaged, but people had been injured in the process, maybe even killed. Was it responsible to continue defying Diesel 10 in the wake of what had happened? Was the blood on his hands?

 _No_ , he decided. Taking the blame was exactly what Diesel 10 wanted from Topham Hatt. If the former were to take over it would mean a lot more suffering than what had happened this afternoon. Sir Topham's responsibility was to _protect_ his railway, maybe better than he had been, considering. He couldn't and wouldn't give in.

* * *

The day was the longest Victor had ever known in his years working for the railway. Broken and twisted engines kept pouring in, one after the other, and not one workman put in less than his best to get as many repaired as possible. No one, however, seemed to do more than Emily Hatt. He noticed her, even in the flurry of movement, always with a look of determination on her face as she handed over tools, held things in place, and otherwise made herself as useful as possible with her limited knowledge. She _was_ a fast learner, and Victor found himself grateful to have her working alongside them.

Daylight turned to night, Victor had to call it good for the evening even if there was more work still to be done. As he considered his responsibility divided between his employer and his employees he always endeavored to do right by _both_ of them. Even an engine ran out of steam eventually, whether the job was finished or not.

Everyone had dispersed, Victor was headed to the office to finish some paperwork he hadn't gotten to in all the commotion…when he heard the distinct sound of crying. It was a very subtle thing, certainly not loud wails or cries of woe; it was the sort of quiet sob that someone had been conditioned to make as silent as possible over time. Victor only heard it by virtue of the Steamworks being empty and a bit cavernous.

He walked towards the sound, leading him just outside of the building where he found Emily Hatt folded up in a very unladylike crouch on the corner stoop.

"Miss Hatt…?" he said, his voice soft and tentative in concern of not startling or upsetting her further. "Miss Hatt, what's happened?"

She all but jumped, either surprised that he had heard her or bothered to take notice, perhaps a bit of both.

"Oh, Mr. Castillo…I thought certainly you'd left by now."

" _Me_?" he chuckled softly in disbelief. "No, no, I practically live here. What about you? I thought Sir Topham Hatt collected you hours ago."

"No...he's far too busy. Likely there was a miscommunication with my brothers of who would fetch me. It's not terribly uncommon."

Victor knew, instinctively perhaps, that this wasn't the cause for her tears. It would've been an insult to guess as much out loud, but he didn't know if she'd want him to ask for clarification. He settled on,

"Is there…anything I can do for you?"

"I'm so tired," she confessed. The way she sighed out her words gave him the impression she didn't often admit such things. "I've never been more tired in my life."

That wasn't the exact cause of her tears either, he knew. Really if he had _any_ sense he would've called for her father and gotten a ride arranged, but a certain spontaneity (and sympathy, perhaps) motivated him towards something else.

"I was just about to have a drink," he said, offering her his hand. "And I have _never_ seen someone more in need of one than you. Join me?"

She looked up at him with wide eyes and he wasn't certain if that came from a place of surprise that he had asked or unfamiliarity with drinking. She was a woman of the upper class after all, likely the strongest thing she had ever imbibed was a tiny glass of champagne at a gala.

Even so, she took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. No doubt reminded of her breeding, she wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and brushed the dust from her already quite dirty overalls as he led them to the office.

"You did a splendid job today," Victor commended, pulling one of the worn chairs out for her beside the desk. "I have to admit, you surprised me!"

Emily cleared her throat and tried to look unaffected by the compliment, but her cheeks were glowing.

"Yes, well…thank you, Mr. Castillo. I don't wish to be thought of as inept on account of my background. My father would not choose an heir lightly."

Victor nodded, resisting the urge to remind her to call him by his first name. Her father hadn't ever taken to it, he felt it likely she never would either.

"So he _has_ chosen you then?" he asked, pulling the bottle from his locked drawer and pouring them both glasses over ice. "You're to be the next Controller?"

"Well…not in so many words, not just yet. He hasn't made any sort of announcement or declaration. I'm sure he won't until he feels I'm comfortable and knowledgeable about everything…perhaps a bit older as well."

There was an unmistakable dread in her eyes as she explained this and Victor knew it wasn't on account of the sight of the unusual drink.

"You must be looking forward to that day," he suggested as he took a swig from his glass. "It's quite an honor."

She glanced sideways and grabbed and gulped down her drink, probably for want of something else to focus on. She moved so fast Victor hadn't time to warn her otherwise.

After choking out a gasp she exclaimed, "What on _earth_ have you given me?"

Victor grinned.

"A drink from my country. I've kept it close to me for a special occasion such as this. Care for another?"

Emily wrinkled her nose. "I've been to Spain before, Mr. Castillo, and I've never tried or heard of anything like this…!"

He couldn't help but laugh. Had she _truly_ mistaken him for a Spaniard? Emily was not in the least bit amused, ever defensive about her lack of worldly exposure.

Victor explained before she could snap at him, "I'm not a Spaniard, Miss Hatt, I'm _Cuban_. We've been drinking rum, a favorite back home."

She seemed to have forgotten her indignation in the surprise of what he had revealed.

" _Cuba_? That's a terribly long way to go! Do, you-…I mean….you must miss your home dreadfully?"

Victor smiled but decided to say nothing specific on the subject. It was true, he _did_ miss his home as dreadfully as she suggested, but that was a sentiment he always kept private. He didn't want his employer to get wind of this and think it somehow meant that his chief engineer wasn't grateful, that he didn't hold Sodor and his job here in the highest regard- nothing could be further from the truth. Besides, the fact remained that he _couldn't_ return home even if he wanted to.

Instead, he switched the focus.

"As long as we're getting personal, might I be _so bold_ as to ask why you were crying?"

Emily's face fell, though not with anger or defensiveness.

"It's silly," she admitted. "I don't suppose you've ever felt-…? No, no…of course you haven't. You'll laugh if I try to explain because, after all…I live such a charmed life, don't I? I've no concept of what misery means."

Victor remembered his scolding of her earlier in the day and felt, for the first time, some amount of guilt for it. On the one hand he suspected it had spurred her into action, but on the other it had been born out of impulsive anger and it failed to take into account her life was as complex as anyone else's. Granted, it was sometimes hard to remember that in light of her wealth.

" _Try_ me," he insisted. "Perhaps I've no concept of what _your_ suffering is like. I've had my chance to enlighten you, now you do the same for me."

Satisfied with this, Emily continued.

"I know I have more than most people can even dream of. I know, to some, that alone negates any right to complain of anything…but this life comes at a much larger cost than I think most people realize- the cost of free will. When you're a child born to nobility you must behave as best reflects on the family, you will become what they see fit. In my case," she shrugged with a long sigh. "I will take over my father's railway and I will do so with enthusiasm- whether that is where my heart lies or not."

Victor began to realize now what she meant and the fact that she could _know_ the very feeling that drove him from his country in the first place shook him to his core.

"It's a _cage_ ," he suggested. "One that we can neither see nor touch, but exists more surely than any other. You feel trapped."

She looked to him with wide eyes and nodded in agreement. No one had put it in such apt terms before, he guessed. Perhaps no one knew her suffering, for as strong-willed as she could present herself to be.

"What…is it you want to do, then?" Victor asked after a time. Emily blushed again.

"It's silly…I've never even suggested it to father, it's not-…apropos, but…well. The truth is, I've always wanted to be a dancer."

Victor brightened at that and Emily, out of her own insecurities, took it as him making fun.

"I know, I know," she sighed. "It's a silly thing, especially for a girl...my size."

He wasn't really sure what she meant by that. Emily wasn't thin as a rail but she certainly wasn't fat as a pig, either. If having feminine curves in England made a woman undesirable that was a heresy that Victor would have to see to.

"Not at all!" he said. "In Cuba the best dancers are the women with ample hips, our music requires it."

Emily laughed, disbelieving.

" _Really_? It seems like all the girls that dance here are so tiny, like little pixies. I feel I'd look like an elephant beside them all."

Victor remembered what he had brought with him from back home -besides rum- and turned back to the drawers. Emily could only see him pull a record and place it on the phonograph in the corner of the room, but the look of confusion on her face told him she wasn't sure what he had planned, even as he took her hand and led her to the open space of the depot.

"I think it's best if I show you what I mean," he said, addressing her look of surprise as he placed his other hand on the small of her back, pulling her close. "You're a fast learner, yes?"

She hadn't time to answer before the music began, an upbeat, smooth twang of guitar strings that brought back for him so many memories of dancing like this in the Havana streets on hot nights. It was obvious she was not accustomed to the style or tempo, but true to her form earlier that day she caught on quickly.

"I've never-…I've never heard music like this before!" The wonderment and sheer delight that began to blossom on her face caused a warmth in his chest that he hadn't known before, either. "And this dancing…it's-…well, I think my Granny would blush if she saw me!"

Victor laughed, albeit a bit nervously, as they continued on through the song. He didn't really want to imagine what _any_ of Emily's family would think if they saw them now. Of course, his intentions were pure. It was just a dance between friends, something he did time and time again back home.

What neither of them realized was that they had an audience- a single, cigar-smoking figure in the shadows, grinning with intent as they swayed and laughed together, oblivious.


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N:** For those of you that are super duper experts into Awdry's Sudrian history- yes, I do realize that Sir Robert Norramby is not canoncially descended (directly) from King Godred. I don't care. He is in this story because, to be frank, I want him to be. I think it adds a certain something to his character. Also, the shipping/romantic element of the story gets a bit more blatant in this chapter so, again, if it's not your thing might wanna cash your chips now.

* * *

The Railway Disaster, as it was being called, had met Sodor with the same sort of unsettling shock as missing a step in the dark. The island, being that it was far enough away from London and any other major cities, being that it was detached from the grittiness of urban reality, had something of an enchantment about it, giving the Sudrians and those visiting the illusion that nothing truly bad could ever happen here. It was for this reason that a disaster of this magnitude carried with it a feeling of blasphemy; it shook the very foundations of the island and what it meant to live here. Diesel 10, Sir Topham Hatt supposed, had intended for that to be the case and, at first, he had succeeded.

People cowered in their homes when traveling wasn't necessary, the usually very busy train stations like Knapford started to look barren.

Sir Topham knew something had to be done. He couldn't let the people of his once peaceful island live in fear like this, not with the Charity Gala and Race approaching so near. He decided to give a speech that would be broadcast live on every radio station (for those that feared going outside) in which he would say something, anything in the hopes that would instill some peace. He simply couldn't let Diesel 10 win this, even if it had already been decided there was no evidence to indict him or anyone else for the disaster.

The gathering took place a couple of days after the disaster in the town square. It was sparse, as he had anticipated, and he didn't know how he felt about Alicia Botti sitting on the same row of seats as his family. The way Emily, Gordon and James continued to glare at her out of the corner of their eyes, around their mother, did nothing for his confidence. But Sir Robert was there along with Millie and Stephen, all three of them with their characteristic optimism and pride. They waved and smiled at him from where they sat and Sir Topham took comfort in the reminder that Sir Robert wanted a chance to speak after him.

The Earl waited as patient as he always was as Sir Topham struggled through his speech. Sir Topham was uncertain if the platitudes he was offering were making any kind of a difference. Diesel 10's words rang in his head as he tried to muddle through, the reminder of his infidelity thrown into sharp relief as Alicia sat just a handful of chairs down from his ever supportive wife, Jane. He wondered then if he had any right to speak at all.

"I-I'm sorry," he said after a time. "I really think I should stop myself there. The Earl of Sodor, Sir Robert Norramby, would like to offer some words of his own…a-and I'm sure he'll no doubt do a much better job than me. So, without further ado…"

Sir Robert knew a cue when he heard one and so had already made his way up to take the stage. He could tell his brother-in-law was having a hard time of it and so he placed a brief, comforting hand on his shoulder as they exchanged places. In no time flat, however, the confidence of the Kings he was descended from found him.

"This afternoon," Sir Robert began. "I address the stalwart people of Sodor- an island in which, I believe, God himself has placed a slice of heaven. History can be a fickle thing, so easily forgotten when we are not oft reminded. I, of course, being an Earl, can hardly take two steps without recalling from whence I came! _For better or for worse_. This is a privilege that I wish to share with the rest of you- you, the daughters and sons of warriors that, along with my ancestor King Godred the Great, defended this island from those that wished to claim her. I can assure you, our battles were not fought with the grandest and most gilded of armies, our weapons were not of polished steel…but of community, determination, strength, _courage_ , all things that have intimidated our enemies more surely than any physical weapon ever could. In times of darkness and uncertainty, we must remember our victories. We must recall the determination of our ancestors to protect what is ours. We may seem a humble people, but we are strong, we are not to be underestimated. Courage, dear friends, can only exist when there is fear and a determination not to be ruled by it. We are the people of the stars, we are the children of Sudrian warriors. We may bend from the pressure of adversity but we do not break, not today, not ever."

In the brief time he had been speaking, people popped their heads out of windows nearby, some even left their homes to gather and hear what was being said. The crowd had accumulated quite a bit by the time he had finished and it was for this reason that the speech was met with a thunderous applause. Even Gordon and James Hatt had risen from their seats to give their Uncle's words the proper acknowledgement.

Sir Topham tried not to feel too defeated. He had done his best, but in the end the people wanted to hear the encouragement of King Starstrider; never had they been better voiced in modern day than through his descendant, Sir Robert.

Sir Robert smiled gratefully and then motioned for silence before speaking again.

"As we are an island community that supports one another through any hardship, Sir Topham and I have come to a decision. Half of all earnings and donations from the Charity Race and Gala will go to the rebuilding of the railway signal points and those affected by the disaster. Now, this may mean pushing the festivities back by a week or so and I understand this will cause some inconvenience. However, we believe this to be a decision for the betterment of Sodor, one that will display our fortitude as a people. We hope that this will encourage all Sudrians to come out and be a part of our celebrations."

The encore of applause said the idea was well-received, even if it meant waiting a bit longer for things to get underway. Sir Topham was pleased to hear this, as he hadn't been sure what the island would make of the change. Both he and Sir Robert were flooded with attention and questions from newspaper reporters as the latter left the stage. They attempted to answer every one that they could, while the extended Hatt and Norramby families were also met with a media audience of their own.

Gordon, however, had become skilled in evading the press despite his height. He managed to duck and cover and steal away before any pesky questions could be asked about his failed business ventures. It was the absolute _last_ thing he needed at this point, what with his father trying to replace him as surely as he was trying to replace his mother with Alicia Botti. _Almost_ no one saw him hide his face under the brim of his hat as he made his way over the bridge out of town…save for Caitlin O'Leary, of course.

"Mr. Hatt!" she exclaimed as she ran to his side, making him jump and gasp in surprise. "Where are you off to? You look like a stealthy detective on a case!"

Gordon shushed and ushered her over the bridge with him, out of sight of the media circus in the town square.

"I am _trying_ to avoid prying reporters that would wring me for damaging information," he said in something of a low mutter as he glanced back over his shoulder to ensure no one had followed him. "That will be nigh impossible with you shouting my name all about the place!"

Caitlin blushed and threw her hand over her mouth, scandalized at her mistake, and Gordon found he couldn't stay as frustrated with her as he might have liked to.

"Oh, I see! Sorry, Mr. Ha-…I mean, Gord-…I mean-!"

"It's fine, it's _all_ fine," he assured her. A gentle hand to her mid-back encouraged her to _please stop saying his name_. "Perhaps you can take me somewhere to lie low for awhile- if it isn't _too much_ trouble."

"Of course!" Caitlin agreed. "We rented a flat for our stay here, Connor and I- good thing, too, considering the change in schedule! I'm sure he won't mind you popping in for a bit."

Gordon, however, _wasn't_ sure about that. The first and last encounter he'd had with Caitlin's twin brother had not been a particularly pleasant one and he didn't suppose his odd amicability with Caitlin would change that very much. Still, needs must, and he would rather exchange silent glares with Connor across a small space for an hour or two than be swarmed with personal questions about his failures.

"I was thinking," she said as they continued on their way. "With the excess time, we could race a bit more! If you like, that is. I had such fun the first time and it's certainly great practice."

Gordon didn't know how to answer. His father had been so livid the first time he went off –granted, he could've chosen better, were he not feeling vengeful- and that, coupled with how inadvertently vulnerable he made himself to Caitlin, was giving him odd feelings about spending any more time alone with her. Beyond the fact that he didn't want people making assumptions about the nature of their relationship, Gordon didn't like feeling out of control of his situation. For reasons he didn't entirely understand, he seemed to lack the same emotional indifference with Caitlin that he could use with everyone else.

"Perhaps," he replied, his voice anything but certain. There was a definite regret in not being able to say 'yes' outright. "I'm sure my presence will be required more oft than not around the railway, circumstances being what they are."

"Of course, of course! I understand, I do. But it's times like these that recreation is especially important. Besides, you're helping me train for the race- that is, if you _must_ think of it as a professional venture."

She winked at him and he smiled, despite himself. It was impossible to take himself so seriously when he was around Caitlin and that alone provided more relief from the stresses of his world than anything else could.

* * *

The week that followed, which would have originally been that of the Race and Gala, became a flurry of teamwork and busyness as everyone did their part to prepare and repair. The turnout for both events would be much bigger now, as such, Sir Robert and his staff were put in charge of anticipating the larger numbers for both events. Despite the railway still being worse for wear there would be crowds of attendees arriving from the mainland that Sir Topham had no intention of excluding.

Emily remained at the Steamworks to help in the effort of repairing the engines that had been derailed. No one made any attempt to discourage her in this, not even Victor to whom she felt herself growing closer just as he did to her. They would work and exchange endeared glances all day, finding themselves more and more drawn to one another's charms. They would talk in the evenings just as they had the first time, sometimes accompanied by the other workers, sometimes just with each other. It was just a friendship it seemed, one that allowed Emily to find a sense of independence. In the Steamworks she was not the niece of the Earl of Sodor, but another worker that had begun to blend seamlessly into the fold. She loved it. And, truth be told, Victor loved having her there, watching her acclimate to the climate be it through wielding two bits of metal together or laughing and having a drink with her coworkers. Their bond was growing so fast, their minds reeling too quickly to realize what was really happening. Had Victor known sooner, before the day he looked over at Emily and realized what he felt, he would've put a stop to it then. As it was, all he could do was remind himself of their expectations and responsibilities and not allow anything to go forward from where it was…no matter how difficult that might have been.

All went as planned until the end of the week, as the Gala and Charity Race drew near by just a couple of days. Emily worked so hard and for so long that it wasn't uncommon for her to be the last one at the Steamworks with Victor- such was true of this particular Friday evening.

"I don't suppose you'll be at the Charity Race tomorrow? " she asked him, dusting off her overalls upon climbing down off the side of an A0 Pacific undergoing a rebuild.

"Would that I could, Emily. The competition looks fierce, I'm sure the riders and their horses will put on quite a show. Unfortunately, I've too much to do here. We're on schedule, but there's still so many repairs to make from the disaster."

Emily faltered a little, unbeknownst to Victor who was reading over various papers on his clipboard. He was doing that more and more as of late, a haphazard attempt to keep a much-needed distance between them.

"The Gala then?" she suggested, her voice hopeful. "There'll be food, drink, _dancing_...and all proceeds go to helping with the cause. Surely you can spare some time to come out for a bit in the evening? I'm sure father would expect it."

Victor bit his lip, unsure. He knew full-well how beautiful Emily would be, how impossible it would be for him to refuse her another dance...how likely Sir Topham would be to see them this time. He tried to remind himself there was nothing to hide, nothing about their current friendship that was unprofessional...but perhaps that wouldn't matter to his boss.

"Emily, I-..." Something lingered on the tip of his tongue, maybe a confession, maybe a reminder for them to both keep their heads about this and not get carried away...but whatever it was dissipated before it could be verbalized. Emily's concerned expression and a fear of disappointing or hurting her had everything to do with it. "I-...I'll consider it, see how things go here. If I can make it, I will. Either way, I hope you enjoy yourself!"

She smiled, though it seemed halfhearted. He hoped she wouldn't think he was rebuffing her because of something silly like finding her unattractive, and yet he knew that was _exactly_ what she was thinking.

It was then that a Chrysler Imperial drove up, one he recognized as a car of the Hatts' from the many times Emily had been transported to and fro by her father, brothers or the family chauffeur. He put some distance in between them, just in case.

"Miss Emily," Winston, the chauffeur, greeted as he stepped out of the car and tipped his hat. "Are you ready to leave, mam?"

"I certainly hope so," Came Gordon's booming voice from the backseat, startling everyone (but especially Victor). He was thumbing apathetically through a newspaper, not bothering to look up. "Grandmama won't appreciate our tardiness for supper. She's just arrived."

Emily offered Victor another tired smile, a swift, "Goodnight, Mr. Castillo," (a title she hadn't called him in awhile now) and then allowed Winston to escort and assist her into the car.

Inside, Gordon greeted his younger sister with a grimace and a sniff at her soiled clothes and face.

"You've certainly adjusted to the Steamworks," he said offhandedly. "It seems only yesterday that you were complaining about having to be there at all."

Emily shrugged, too disappointed with how things had gone with Victor to say much on her own behalf.

"It's not so bad, really. I've had fun and learned quite a bit. It's nice to step outside of our bubble every now and then, Gordon, you should try it sometime. Still...I don't think I'll be going back after today."

Gordon scoffed out a laugh at her suggestion. As if he would ever condescend to such a thing.

"The mind boggles as to why you stayed there so long in the first place. I've no idea how you stand be so... _filthy_ at the end of every day. "

"I had my reasons. Not that it matters now."

For as self-involved as Gordon could be he still knew by the tone of her voice when his sister was upset or sad...but didn't do very well when it came to offering comforting words. Sometimes the very attempt would irritate Emily further, so he chose not to push the matter. That was until…

"Gordon...do you think a man will ever take notice of me?"

Gordon stiffened behind his newspaper. He certainly hadn't expected that. Rare was the occasion that Emily said anything so personal to him. Then again, rare was the occasion that they had a moment alone to do so.

"What on earth could've prompted _that_ question, Emily?"

"Oh...nothing in particular, I just...well, sometimes I don't feel I'm as appealing as other girls. So many of them are so smart, pretty, talented...like that one rider that arrived for the races, Caitlin O'Leary. She's beautiful!"

Gordon coughed and shifted in the seat uncomfortably.

"Is she? I hadn't noticed…"

Emily sighed and rested her chin on her hand as she looked out the window.

"Would that I could look like her...or better than _this_ , anyway."

"Come now, enough of this nonsense," Gordon insisted. "We are the children of Kings, this defeatist attitude doesn't become us."

"Blue blood isn't appealing on its own, Gordon. Not for the kind of man I want, anyway. I don't mean to say I'm in a rush, I just...one day, I'd like to have that. A husband, children. At this rate I don't think I'll ever find someone that likes me for who I am."

"You just haven't found the one deserving of you yet is all."

Emily was unconvinced but chose to say nothing further. Gordon meant well and she knew she'd have to thank him later for his attempt at comfort- afforded only by the fact that it was the two of them speaking in confidence, away from someone like James who'd no doubt make fun.

"Nevermind, Emily," Gordon readjusted and fixed his attention back on his newspaper. "The Gala is tomorrow and you'll no doubt meet a horde of eligible gentlemen there. If I were you I'd be more concerned about getting washed up the moment we get home. Grandmama will _faint_ if she sees you looking like that."

Emily chuckled briefly at the thought and Gordon considered that as good as a success. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what prompted such thoughts, what made her feel compelled to bring them to him of all people. He didn't think they were often so forefront on her mind. Some young man must've disappointed her, perhaps, an unrequited crush.

His eyes flitted momentarily back to the disappearing Steamworks and a jarring suspicion entered his mind.

' _Could it be-…_?' he thought and then just as soon banished the idea from all possibility. No, no, surely not. Surely Emily would know better than to entertain fantasies of the Cuban Chief Engineer, for as handsome as Gordon recognized he was.

Surely not.

Or so he _hoped_ , for how often she reminded and lectured _him_ of their social obligations.

* * *

The day of the Charity Race finally arrived, an occasion that was marked with celebration and a return to reality for two of the Hatt siblings. For Emily it meant being dressed up once more, carted around like a faberge egg with the rest of her upper class family. If there had been any room for doubt in her mind the past week that maybe she wasn't all blue blood and money, the event at hand quickly swept that from her mind.

That was that, then. Her destiny was laid out for her, from career path to future husband (if indeed there was one of the latter at all).

"My love, you must smile!" her mother, Lady Jane Hatt, encouraged privately as they made their way to the reserved box of seats. "All eyes and cameras will be on us today. We _must_ make your father proud."

Emily loved her mother, there was no doubt about that. Her mother's wide-eyed optimism, however…

She couldn't understand it. Why were _they_ obligated to make father look good when father was making a mockery of them everyday with that Botti woman? It was an elephant they tiptoed and shifted around (quite literally as Alicia Botti was a rotund woman), were forbidden to speak of. Did mother not know? No one had told Emily explicitly and yet she knew very well what was going on. Father and Miss Botti made no real effort to hide anything.

"I don't see the point in giving a false impression, Mama," Emily shrugged. "I don't wish to be here. That's all there is to it."

Her mother sighed and patted her arm. "Oh, _Emily_..."

If she had more to say it was interrupted by James blurting out the observation, " _Where's_ Gordon? He seems to have slipped away!"

Their mother looked about but also failed to catch sight of her eldest. Even at this age Lady Jane didn't appreciate not being able to keep close stock of her brood. It was the one thing she had ever considered herself good at.

"Perhaps you two ought to go look for him," she suggested, giving Emily a knowing smile. It was the most of a reprieve as she could offer. "He couldn't have gone far and your father won't appreciate his being absent. Go on, quickly."

James sighed and rolled his eyes but Emily was very eager to avoid being put on display as long as possible, even if it was only the postponing of an inevitable sentence.

"Come along then, Emily," James said. "We mustn't leave poor Gordon to fend for himself."

* * *

"You'll want to take care for the speed on number four...but I think seven, The Duke's Best, he's got a weak knee that you could use to your advantage…"

Gordon advised Caitlin as he helped to brush and put the finishing touches on her horse. Even the animals had to look their best for an occasion such as this.

"You're speaking to me as if I've never done this before," she giggled, adjusting the saddle. "Might I remind you who is the professional rider out of the two of us?"

Gordon blushed and laughed a bit under his breath in realization of what he was doing.

"I just...want to help ensure you do your best, is all. You _and_ Hop Along Chastity, that is. Wouldn't want to think all our hard work this week had gone to waste.."

He had already considered telling her the truth, of his plan to put a great deal of money on her horse. After all the time they had spent practicing together, training, due to the impressiveness of Caitlin's record it seemed only wise. As time marched on, however, he felt it might give the wrong impression of things.

What was the _right_ impression of things between them, for that matter? Gordon wasn't sure anymore.

"Been meaning to thank you for helping me," Caitlin said. "It was a boon to have another talented rider alongside...even if it did come at the expense of Connor's pride."

"Yes...I think it's quite clear your brother doesn't care for me. He's in good company, not many people do."

"He'll be glad for the return to Dublin," Caitilin supplied, her voice and expression verging on a sense of...expectation, though for what, Gordon really wasn't sure. "We're to take a week's break and then...resume. I think we're off to Mumbai next."

Gordon hummed in acknowledgement, his nervousness increasing. He couldn't understand why she was bringing this up now.

"Gordon…" Caitlin said carefully after a beat. "There's a chance we may not see each other again after this for some time. As such, I've been considering...do you think it's wise to make a confession in a situation like this? Or is it preferable to say nothing at all?"

Gordon's heart beat faster even as he pretended this conversation wasn't taking the obvious route that it was.

"I-...I suppose it depends on the nature of the confession. If you're going to tell me you're not truly Irish, I'd rather not know. I worked far too hard with myself to befriend you despite this flaw."

He smiled a little and she giggled again, though her focus didn't wane from the path she so clearly wanted to go down. She drew closer to him.

"I'm speaking of feelings. _Tender_ feelings."

He stared down at her, wide-eyed, and made a halfhearted attempt to back away. This wasn't a surprise to him. He wasn't obtuse, he knew full-well what had been developing between them as fast and as sure as a blossom in May. Even so, he had done what he could to push all feelings aside, to remind himself that such a foolish notion was only that. There was no future for the nephew of an Earl and a horse rider from Ireland.

"I-I...I don't know what you expect me to say, Caitlin. You know full-well I'm not in a position for-...for such a thing…"

This did nothing to deter her as Gordon grudgingly wished it would. Thank god for that, really.

"I don't expect you to say anything at all," she replied and that was all the warning he got before she grasped the lapels of his suit jacket and pulled him into a kiss that was neither orthodox nor ladylike nor any of that other stuffy nonsense.

What could he do? He threaded his fingers through her blonde curls, wrapped an arm around her lower back, and brought her in even closer.

This unbridled bliss wouldn't last, he knew...but he'd make the most of the time they had. That seemed to be her intention all along as well.

" _That_ was very foolish," he said with a disbelieving grin when they pulled away, not really sure if he was talking to himself or her or both of them at once.

"Perhaps. Foolishness and impulsiveness are so often confused."

"What do _you_ make of it then?" he asked, brushing their noses. He was too out of breath to kiss her again, too desperate _for her_ to push away.

She hummed pleasantly, her eyes still closed.

"To have this moment...I don't very much care either way, Mr. Hatt."

It was good enough for Gordon. He made to kiss her again but felt the gut-wrenching, oh-so-familiar sensation of being watched. Against his better judgement, he looked around to see if his suspicions were correct.

"Gordon…?"

It was Emily's wavering voice. She, looking horrified, was accompanied by an equally as shocked James. They stood at the entrance of the stables with wide-eyes and gaping mouths, like a pair of dead fish on display at market.

Caitlin needed only a moment to realize who these two were and jump off of Gordon as if he were a searing hot coal.

"Shouldn't you two be at the box?"

It was all Gordon could think to say in the thick of the humiliation, revert back to his gruffness as if nothing had happened.

"We might ask _you_ the same question," James said, arms folded over his chest like a mother catching her child arriving after curfew. "Though I suppose that isn't necessary, seeing as you've been...preoccupied."

With cheeks red, Caitlin excused herself as she led Hop Along Chastity away to the starting line. Gordon knew he could say nothing, not with his siblings standing right there, presiding over his actions.

"What were you _thinking_ of?" James barked out as soon as Caitlin was out of earshot.

"Honestly, Gordon, you're as bad as father," Emily glared. There was a special hint of betrayal in her voice, as if she had expected so much better of him. Gordon couldn't fathom why.

"It's not your concern," Gordon straightened out his suit jacket and stood tall. He was _not_ about to be put on trial by his two younger siblings. "I would sooner examine my own behavior, were I either of you, before criticizing _mine_."

He stormed out then, with no interest in accompanying either of them back to the family box. Truth be told, neither Emily nor James were keen to take him. There were far too many skeletons in the Hatt closet as it was without Gordon adding more of his own.

* * *

"Where could the children be?" Bertram wondered aloud, checking his watch for good measure.

It had been a good half an hour now and the race would be starting at any moment. He didn't want any photos to be taken without them present, lest the media start thinking there was family trouble afoot. It had been difficult enough to convince Alicia to keep her own distance for, perhaps, the first time.

Things _had_ to be different now. Sodor needed a sense of stability and the best way Bertram could do so would be to reinstate his public image as that of a loyal family man. At this time, it was crucial.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry, dear," Jane assured. "They're no doubt just greeting their friends and enjoying the sights. It's difficult for them, you know, being in the spotlight all the time."

" _Life_ is difficult. Those three believe they've seen the worst of it." Bertam sighed. "They've no clue. Really, they don't. Perhaps we've spoiled them, Jane."

"Oh no, I don't think so. The opposite, if anything."

Jane waved her fan and looked out inconspicuously at the track, though her husband was well on to her insinuation.

"I know what you think. If I had been a bit more devil may care with them, like your brother, they might have turned out better. Oh, let's be honest, Millie and Stephen both have much sturdier heads than our lot ever will."

Jane shot Bertram a look of stunned, but controlled offense. She knew just as well as he did about the prying eyes and didn't want to give anyone the impression they were having a spat. Even still…

"That is _not_ what I'm thinking. And my brother was not...what did you say? _Devil may care_ in his child rearing? He was as firm as any parent must be, but he allowed Millie and Stephen room to forge their own destinies. He continues to do so. They trust him, Bertram."

Bertram scoffed as he lit his cigar.

"We saw how _swimmingly_ that went for Gordon. No, dear. Our children aren't of that ilk. They need structure. Discipline. Oh, Emily's fine...but who knows what would've happened with the boys if I hadn't given them work...they'd both be floundering in a ditch, begging for tuppence, I'm sure."

Jane gasped and made to argue the point further on behalf of her absent children when, probably for the best, Dowager Hatt appeared.

"Jane, Bertram!" she cooed, looking especially like a feathered peacock today and not just in the way she strutted about. "Look who I found milling about the place!"

She was accompanied by the Norrambys, Robert, Millie and even the not-oft seen Stephen. Lady Jane was so glad to see her family that she leapt up from her seat and treated them all to firm hugs and kisses on the cheek.

"Robbie! So good to see you. You must come around more. Millie, ma cherie! You get more beautiful every time I see you. And _Stephen_! Oh, Stephen, my darling boy."

She hugged her nephew the longest on account of having not seen him in several months.

"Won't you all join us?" Bertram offered to which the three politely declined. This was expected; the Norrambys never sat in reserved seating unless absolutely necessary.

"Lovely of you to offer, Bertram," said Sir Robert. "But I do believe the view is a bit better on the left side of the field."

"Won't your adoring fans want to see you front and center, Stephen?" Bertram suggested, speaking of Stephen's long and now retired record as an accomplished rider- one of his many lifetime feats.

"Oh, on the contrary, Uncle Bertram. I'm more accessible on the other end of the field. Besides, as father says, the view is much better. You're all welcome to join _us_ , of course!"

They didn't, important as it was for the Hatts to stay front and center. So far, though, Sir Topham's plan was not going very smoothly. His children were nowhere to be seen, his in-laws had no interest in appearing cohesive even under the circumstances, and just now his mother was clucking about after an ever flirtatious Sir Robert.

"I feel I just do it for show now," Sir Topham sighed, referring to the three chairs he set aside at every event like this for the Norramby clan. Jane didn't know what comfort to offer- that is, until she caught sight of that new Thomas boy nearby.

"Bertram, isn't that the young man you hired recently?"

He turned and brightened. "So it is! Thomas, my lad, how are you!"

Thomas smiled shyly and made his way over to the tented box to exchange pleasantries. Behind him were two of his friends, Rosie, the girl that did the switchboard at the head office, and Percy, one of the recognizable local mailmen.

"Come now, both of you!" Jane beckoned to the even more sheepish young people behind him. "We've three open and empty seats and tea for all. Join us, won't you?"

* * *

"I want it _all_ on Hop Along Chastity. You heard me right, sir, snap to."

As usual, Gordon couldn't help himself. For better or for worse he was going to put money down on Caitlin's horse, assuring himself all the while that it was fine as at least half of it would go to a good cause either way. The gambling had to stop, he knew, but... _one bet_ wouldn't hurt. Surely.

"Is that _wise_ , Mr. Hatt?" asked a slimy, familiar voice. If there was any doubt as to its owner the permeating smell of thick cigar smoke was confirmation enough. "You're not a very dab hand at this sort of thing, you know."

Gordon coughed, squared his big shoulders and pocketed the ticket.

"You've some nerve showing up here- without those two brutes of yours, no less. I don't imagine you'll be well received. This entire event is to help rectify the damage _you_ caused."

Diesel 10 chuckled under his breath, the halls barren enough now that his voice carried.

"I suppose that's your father's story, is it? The big bad diesel man, the root of every problem. You know, I think it's _very curious_ that you hang on his every word, Master Gordon, considering how little he cares for you."

Gordon faltered somewhere inside but did his best not to make that evident to Diesel 10. He didn't want the other man to think he was making any kind of impressionable progress with him.

"Can I help you with something, sir?" Gordon scoffed, no intention of actually doing so. "Or shall I just show you the way _out_?"

Diesel 10 clicked his tongue.

"That's no way to welcome the man that just anonymously donated enough to repair your railway and _then some_. Not to mention put a healthy sum on that steed of yours, the one Miss O'Leary is riding. It seems we're of the same mind, Master Gordon. Perhaps we should talk."

"I can't imagine what of," Gordon sniffed, continuing on his way without any more attempts at feigned politeness. Naturally, Diesel 10 followed.

"What else? _Business_. It's what we know best, you and I."

"So you say now, hmm? How often have you leapt to remind me of my failed ventures?"

"You can't blame a fellow businessman for being a bit intimidated, Mr. Hatt. I would say your dear Papa is suffering a similar ailment."

Gordon rolled his eyes, scarcely believing what he was hearing. It was a joke, is what it was, the very idea that Diesel 10 would try to imply anyone of consequence was intimidated by the London failure.

"Oh, I know what you're thinking," Diesel 10 assured. "How could anyone be intimidated by you due to recent events? It's not the events themselves we judge you by, Mr. Hatt, not those of us who know better. Your father and I see your potential for greatness as clear as day. The difference between us is that _I_ want to help you...your father wants to hold you back."

Gordon stopped in his tracks, caught somewhere between confusion and a demand that Diesel 10 explain his ridiculous (albeit fascinating) logic.

"Why would he want to do that? He's always urged me to be the best at everything. It's been...overwhelming at times."

An understatement to be sure, particularly coming from one such as Gordon who didn't often underestimate just how bad things were. This was about his father, however, and so there would always be an element of apprehension, fear.

"Routinely unimpressed. Discouraging. Why is that, I wonder? It couldn't be that he fears his eldest son stands the chance of being even greater than he...could it? Your father's refusal to see your worth is what has held you back all along. _Now_ he has you exactly where he wants you, under his thumb, your confidence shattered."

Gordon shrunk in on himself. Diesel 10's words were starting to gnaw away at him just as had been intended. Could it be true that his father felt that way? Could he have such an agenda? The more and more he contemplated it the more sense it made and the angrier he got.

"And so he favors others," Gordon hissed through his teeth. "That Thomas brat is here no longer than a month and already he's father's pet favorite."

"Stupid, naive pawns," Diesel 10 assured. "That's all Mr. Huntington's like is good for. You're not foolish and stuck in a bygone age like your father, Mr. Hatt. You know as well as I that diesel engines are the way of the future, no matter how direly Sir Topham denies this and fights against the inevitable change. This is a booming industry, still fresh and ripe for the taking."

Diesel 10 surveyed Gordon with knowing eyes as the wheels began turning in his head. Villain or no, Diesel 10 was right; his engines were faster, stronger, more efficient...someday, surely, _everyone_ would be using diesel. Steam locomotives would be a thing of the past. What would become of father's railway if he didn't adapt to the changing times? It would be foolish not to. Selfish, even.

"If you haven't gathered, Mr. Hatt, I'm making a business proposition," Diesel 10 said after long enough to let his words sink in. "I want us to work _together_ to make your father's railway more attune to the changing tide. He's been so adamantly opposed to such a partnership. I suppose it's that hunger for control that he refuses to have wrested from his pudgy grasp. But you're not like him, are you? You can see what's better for the railway."

Gordon was unsure as the last, strong vestiges of his loyalty to his father remained. Regardless of the logic in Diesel 10's words, he couldn't simply dive into such a proposal without thinking. He was still businessman enough to know that.

"I will...have to take this matter into deeper thought before giving my answer," Gordon said, putting on the same unflinching poker face he used so often in business transactions (and poker itself).

Diesel 10 smiled slyly.

"That's all I ask, Mr. Hatt. Shall we press on? The race is about to begin and we have a shared investment."

* * *

Thomas could hardly believe his luck as he sat, sipped tea and made conversation with Sir Topham Hatt and his wife, Lady Jane- in their private box, no less! It was the dream that never ended, that Thomas hoped he'd never wake up from.

His companions were a bit more hesitant however. Rosie had acclimated well enough to the pleasant surprise, so much so that she no longer complained about having to be all dolled up in formal wear, but she could scarcely hold a tea cup without rattling it and the saucer in her unsteady hands.

"Oh, I'm so, so sorry, Lady Hatt!" she managed, though what she was apologizing for Thomas couldn't really discern. It seemed unnecessary just for frayed nerves.

"Nevermind, dear, that china set has always been a bother to me too," Lady Hatt assured, to which Rosie blushed and giggled.

Percy, however, was little less than petrified. He sat, stiff and wide-eyed and silent, like a deer trying to blend into the scenery and avoid being seen by the hunting party.

"Fortuitous that you all would be given the day off to join us," Sir Topham said. "I would've liked to have had everyone here, but well...the business of the railway doesn't take holidays."

"My father doesn't mind!" Rosie supplied. "He just _loves_ his job as an engine driver. I couldn't see him being anything else."

Sir Topham nodded and beamed at her. "Ah, yes, Mr. Edward Sinclair. One of my most reliable and longest working engine drivers. Can always count on him to get the job done! As is true of the rest of the Sinclair family too, of course." He winked at her. "I'm fortunate to have the whole clan working for me."

Sir Topham then turned his attentions to Percy.

"What about you, Mr. Monday? Gave you the time off at the Post Office did they?"

Percy made to reply but ended up just sort of gaping and struggling for sound. Despite the fact that he made mail deliveries to the Hatt estate quite often, he almost never saw the great patriarch himself. This may have indeed been the first time he was interacting with him at all.

"They closed the Post Office today, sir," Thomas said in his stead. "For the occasion, of course."

"Ah, of course, silly question."

"I don't suppose, young man," Lady Hatt addressed Percy. "That you might see to it you and your fellows take care when slipping the letters through the door? Our staff can't always be there to fetch them and I so hate to see a pile of letters in front of the door, it's very unbecoming."

"O-of course, L-lady Hatt…" Percy agreed almost under his breath, unsure of how he was going to fulfill such an odd request.

It was then that James and Emily reappeared, looking a bit worse for wear and without their older brother.

"Where've you two been this whole time and why isn't your brother with you?" Sir Topham asked, visibly cross.

The siblings exchanged a glance, having already decided that Gordon's secret needed to remain so for the time being. This was _not_ the occasion to send father into a deeper tizzy.

Emily shrugged before having a seat at the shared table for tea. "He wanted to head back on his own. Who were we to argue with him?"

James took the seat beside her and agreed.

"You know how it is with him- his way or _nothing_."

"I-sn't that him up there…?" Percy pointed out, gesturing towards the highest stand of seating where Gordon Hatt was most certainly exchanging pleasantries with none other than Diesel 10, as if they were old comrades.

Sir Topham's round little face twisted into a menacing scowl and he shot up from his seat. Everyone present recoiled in fear.

"What is the meaning of-...!"

He was stopped only by his wife's hand on his arm.

"Bertram," she whispered sharply. " _Bertram_. The race is about to start. The cameras, darling…"

The controller bit back his shocked anger, _somehow_ , and resolved to deal with Gordon's latest display when the time came. What was certain is that his eldest had quite a bit of explaining to do for his latest choice of behavior.

Thomas, meanwhile, narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the unlikely duo. He believed just as much as Sir Topham that Diesel 10 was responsible for the Railway Disaster, but wondered what could possibly be his purpose for spending time with the eldest Hatt child.

Though he couldn't put an exact finger on it, Thomas knew for sure that it all stank to high heaven.

* * *

Gordon glared down at his family's seat, at the sight of that Thomas boy once again laughing it up with his father. He couldn't fathom what his father saw in that incompetent louse. Was it his oversized ego? His recklessness? His cheekiness? Being Knapford stationmaster Gordon had been tasked with dealing with new hire firsthand for the past two weeks and was already aware of everything that made him insufferable.

But father didn't see any of this, of course. He saw only an eagerness to please, to nod and agree and hang on every word, exactly the kind of son he'd always dreamed of having. It was possible this Thomas boy wasn't incompetent at all, but eager to see if he could charm his employer into lavishing financial and material gifts upon him, perhaps, even the whole railway.

 _That's_ what would become of the business if his father was left to his own devices. Their savings would go to buying his mistresses (Alicia Botti especially) luxury flats, jewelry and fine clothes. Sir Topham was becoming careless in his older age, of that much Gordon was certain.

"Nevermind all that," said Diesel 10 as he blew another big cloud of cigar smoke. "Keep an eye on our steed. I imagine that won't be difficult, given who is riding her."

He gave Gordon a brief, knowing glance before staring back down at the track. Gordon did the same, knowing full-well he needed to keep an eye on his investment. Any interest he may have had in the rider was pushed to the back of his mind. For a moment.

In the blink of an eye the doors to the stables were opened and the horses sped down the field, faster than seemed possible. Despite himself, Gordon took notice of the stern look of concentration on Cailtin's usually soft features, the same that had regarded him so tenderly naught but a moment ago. He realized then just how similar the both of them were, how easily they could cover up their vulnerability to get the job at hand done.

She was very good too, getting a lead very quickly on the competition, even on Connor. They exchanged brief smiles as they passed one another up.

But _then_...a horse in the back faltered, whinnying helplessly as it felt to the ground, taking the rider along with it. The crowd gasped and many even stood up in shock. Gordon was trying to piece together what had happened while the same happened to yet another horse and rider, and another…

None of the horses could rise back to standing and two of the riders looked as if they might have twisted ankles or broken legs in the fall. Caitlin continued, however, no doubt knowing the show must go on regardless. Connor followed in close behind her, almost gaining when...his horse, too, failed and sent him clattering to the ground.

"Connor!"

Gordon could hear Caitlin cry out to him and, for that, he did stand. But what could he do? What comfort could he offer here, now? He knew only that he wanted to run to her and help.

"Go on, Caitlin!" Connor called back. "Go on, it's all you!"

Caitlin hesitated, she and her horse trotting to and fro, until she seemed to come to the decision that he was right. Gordon watched as she galloped forward and successfully completed the race, a victory that was met a smattering of applause as the concern was moreover focused on the incapacitated horses and their wounded riders.

Caitlin dismounted, threw off her helmet and ran to Connor as soon as she could, though now almost unable to reach him for how swarmed he was with medics.

"I don't-...I don't understand," Gordon stammered, looking back at Diesel 10 for some sort of reasonable guess.

Diesel 10 just grinned, a look that Gordon instantly knew suggested that he was not only aware of the cause but _responsible_ for it.

"It would seem I've made back some of my donation," Diesel 10 said, rising from his chair and adjusting his suit, completely unaffected by what he had seen. "And you're to get some lining for your pockets as well."

"What's happened?" Gordon asked, his voice stern and low. "What've you done to those poor beasts?"

"If I've done _anything,_ Master Gordon, I've done those riders a favor. Those beasts were rubbish. If I've done _anything_ , I've demonstrated to you just what I'm capable of. I can make you a rich, powerful man. I can also _destroy_ you and no one would know. Don't underestimate me, hmm?"

With that, he gave Gordon a pat on the arm and made to leave.

"Oh and do come to a decision quickly as concerns my offer, won't you?" he added over his shoulder. "It's a good one and it won't last."


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Full disclosure, this is another sort of slow-moving, plot filler chapter where nothing super exciting happens. Yeah, one of those. Still might be helpful to read, but I promise you sh*t's gonna start getting real by the next chapter, so hang in there babies. I really appreciate all the feedback I've been getting. Please don't forget to leave a **review** with your thoughts! Everything helps me know how to better structure the next human AU installment. :)

* * *

"Don't get me wrong, the whole thing was _terrible_ ," Rosie said in between bites of her sandwich. "But I _am_ glad the Gala got pushed back. Getting all gussied up twice in one weekend would've been too much for me."

Thomas laughed and shook his head, placing his crisps bag open between them on the bench so Rosie could have easy access (she always nicked some from him anyway, everyday, without fail). He found it funny that she could be so opposed to dressing nice when she had to do the same thing every day for work at the front desk and switchboard.

"The riders were all okay though, right?" Percy asked whichever one of them that could confirm. "No one was...hurt _too_ badly?"

Thomas shook his head and sent his friend a comforting smile from the other side of Rosie.

"No, no, don't worry, Percy. The worst of it was Mr. O'Leary's broken leg."

Rosie's eyes widened. "Oh dear...I hope that won't impair his ability to ride in the future. Those injuries can leave lasting damage."

Percy saddened a little at the idea, sympathetic as he was to that sort of thing. He couldn't imagine not being able to deliver his mail anymore. How awful that news would be to someone like successful and famous Connor O'Leary!

Rosie patted her postman friend's back. He had become not unlike a little brother to her in the time they'd grown in their bond. She wanted only to protect him from the evils and the sadness of the world. Thomas felt similarly.

"We don't know for sure, Percy," she assured. "He might be just fine after he heals- right as rain, and ready to race again!"

In the meantime, Thomas' mind had wandered elsewhere.

"It does sort of make you wonder...all those horses falling over at once...it _couldn't_ have been a coincidence. It was sort of like the signal point thing, wasn't it? One, right after the other…"

Rosie and Percy were both leaning forward now, regarding Thomas with curious and confused stares, eager to see where his train of thought was leading.

"Well, I just mean...if it's not a coincidence, then _someone_ must be behind it...maybe it's all the _same_ person."

Rosie shrugged, unconvinced.

"Why would someone go to the trouble of doing all that? What point would they be trying to make?"

Thomas shook his head and sighed. Despite how suspicious the whole thing was he couldn't quite put his finger on who would be responsible or why.

"I also have to wonder why Sir Topham got so mad about Gordon talking to Diesel 10. I know he's not a particularly nice man, but-"

"There's no need to wonder about _that_ , Thomas," Rosie scoffed out in a nervous laugh. "Diesel 10 has been after the Northwestern Railway for a while now, wants to fill it with his diesel engines. Sir Topham refuses to sell and thank goodness for it. If Diesel 10 ever takes over this railway, I'm getting a new job- me and father both. _Not a nice man_ is an understatement when it comes to Diesel 10."

"I...guess that's why Sir Topham has been reprimanding Gordon for most of the day." He contemplated it for a moment and then said, "Do you think...do you think Diesel 10 is behind all of this? Do you think Gordon's helping him…?"

Percy gasped, ashamed Thomas would even suggest such a thing.

" _Thomas_! How can you say that about your employer's son?"

"Or Diesel 10 for that matter," Rosie shuddered, looking around to see if any of his goons were nearby to hear. "You don't want him catching wind of you talking that way!"

Thomas wouldn't abandon his theory, but for Percy and Rosie's sake he pretended he would.

"Oh, nevermind, you two. I think all the insanity lately has started to go to my head. Anyway, I think it's about time for us to get back to work isn't-"

Cutting him off was the sound of Gordon Hatt's office door opening with force and the heavy footfalls of a very angry Sir Topham Hatt leaving. He was so angry, in fact, he neglected to offer a hello to the trio of friends as he so often did. Gordon followed, looking momentarily defeated until he saw Percy, Thomas and Rosie staring at him with wide-eyes.

" _Why_ are you three sitting about, gawping like dead fish on display when there's work to be done?" Gordon demanded to know, his voice louder and more stern than they'd ever heard it. "Lunch break ended five minutes ago for Mr. Huntington and Miss Sinclair, so get up and **snap to**."

As usual, Rosie and Percy scurried off without much more than a "yessir". Either because Thomas didn't seem as afraid as Gordon deemed he should've been or didn't move as fast to get back to work or, possibly, because of Gordon's sour mood after the confrontation with his father, he singled him out.

"Mr. Huntington," he all but growled. "I've enough porters on duty today. I'm sending you to the shunting yards where you can make yourself useful loading crates."

Working in the shunting yards was tiring, back-breaking work that Thomas had found he really didn't like at all, particularly when it felt more like a punishment for something he hadn't done.

"The shunting yards, sir? But...can't one of the other men go? Sir Topham Hatt favors me as one of his best por-"

"I didn't realize this job was becoming a _chore_ for you, Mr. Huntington," Gordon snapped. "When you arrived here you were eager and desperate for a job- _any_ job with the railway. Now, you think just because my father has taken a shine to you for _god only knows_ what reason, you can order me about? This is not Buckingham Palace and you are _not_ His Majesty."

Gordon then pointed his finger towards the shunting yards like a father sending his unruly child to their room.

"The _shunting yards_ , Mr. Huntington, or you will be seeking employment elsewhere."

Thomas glared at the ground and conceded, knowing this was a battle he couldn't win.

"Yes, sir."

He made his way to the gruesome work waiting for him, now convinced more than ever that Gordon Hatt was plotting with Diesel 10- and more determined than ever to _prove_ it.

* * *

With a bouquet of daisies in one hand and a Get Well card in the other, Gordon made his way down the stark white halls of the Wellsworth Hospital, focused only on finding one person in particular. After a flurry of corridors and nurses and stretchers he finally located who he sought- Caitlin, sitting uneasily in the waiting room, her leg shaking and her fingers tearing up bits of tissue in her lap.

She jumped when she saw him and he barely had time to prepare himself for the embrace she threw around his neck.

"Oh, Gordon…" she whimpered, pressing her face into his shoulder. "It's _such_ a relief to see a friend."

He held her, guilt beginning to flood him once more for the accident he may have inadvertently caused.

"Are you alright?" He asked, wondering if it was a foolish or insulting question. He wasn't very good with this sort of thing, after all.

She pulled away and nodded, though it was anything but convincing.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine...just a bit of frayed nerves is all…"

"And Connor?"

The smile Caitlin had managed slipped away at the mention of her brother. She also dropped her arms from Gordon's shoulders.

"Broken legs," she explained, looking down at the tile floor. "He's expected to recover...as much as one can."

Gordon narrowed his eyes, uncertain of what she was trying to say.

"Well...either he will recover or he won't. I don't think there's more than two ways about such a thing."

Caitlin looked at him with lost eyes and shifted her weight a little, as if she was trying to find the right words. She returned to the chair she had been sitting in, her eyes welling up with tears.

Gordon wondered if his stern words had hurt her. _Good god_ , he was terrible at this- and it wasn't often that Gordon Hatt would admit his lack of talent at anything. Still, he knew he had to give it a try for her sake, so he took the seat beside her. His arm hovered awkwardly a moment and he wondered if he had any right putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. He thought better of it in the end.

"He'll recover, but…" Caitlin sniffed. "He...he won't be the same. He won't be able to ride again, not like he used to. The Doctor's already told me...Connor doesn't know."

Gordon felt his heart sink for Connor. Regardless of the friction between them no one deserved to be incapacitated from their passion. He thought for a moment that his father must have been right...Diesel 10 was too ruthless and too dangerous to do business with.

But, as ever, Gordon's pride would be his ruin. Unwilling to admit he had been wrong his mind supplied another alternative; if he were to agree to Diesel 10's terms, to go through with the deal, he _might_ be able to keep him away from hurting others like this. It seemed only responsible now, an obligation, even.

"Will...the Doctor tell him?" Gordon asked, unsure of what else to say.

Caitlin shook her head. "I asked him to let me do it. Connor can only hear it from me. I just-...I don't know how to tell him, Gordon, I don't. It-...it's been his whole life. _Our_ life. Th-this...this is the last piece of our mother that we have. H-how do I-... _how_ do I tell him he must part with that?"

She seemed to be looking to him for an answer but, of course, Gordon had none.

He could, however, hold her again and that was precisely what he did. It might have been the only thing she was asking for to begin with, from the way she all but collapsed into his arms and gripped onto his shoulder for dear life. For the first time, he didn't care that his coat was being soiled. He didn't see it that way. Those were _her_ tears staining his clothes and to know he had been allowed to comfort her- he wouldn't have had it any other way.

"You mustn't leave it very long," he suggested after a time.

Not that he was in any way an expert, but, well...this seemed the sort of thing one wouldn't want kept from them even with the best of intentions.

She nodded against his chest. "I know. I'm going to tell him today, really I am...I just needed time to find the words."

They stayed like this for a moment, only the sounds of the hospital to fill the comfortable, much-needed silence. After a while Caitlin said,

"This will be the end for me, too. Racing, I mean. Connor and I race together, it's always been this way. I can't go on without him."

"Are you-...prepared for that?"

"W-well...no. I imagine he isn't either, but what choice do we have? We'll find something new. Somewhere new."

"You needn't," Gordon said quickly, without a second thought. "Y-you could...you could stay here, I mean to say. Sodor. It's a thriving community. You've already got friends, connections...it's a _sensible_ choice."

For the first time in this moment, Caitlin looked up at him and smiled.

"You wouldn't mind that?"

Gordon smiled back and resisted the very strong urge to kiss her again, given how close she was and how soft her features were like the day _she_ had kissed _him_.

"Far from it. There's a reason I suggest it, you know."

"We'll consider it," she agreed, her grin widening in such a way that told him she had already made up her mind and Connor would just have to go along. "There are certainly worse options."

Gordon settled then for kissing her forehead and taking her hand his own, still rather uncertain of where they stood, concerned about not pushing the boundaries too far too soon. This seemed a safe place to be though, huddled together in the waiting room, Caitlin's thumb rubbing circles against his knuckles.

"I'm uncertain if it's the best time to ask," he admitted, because, really, he was. "But it won't leave me be. As you may know, The Gala has been rescheduled for tomorrow and-"

"Forgive me if I'm being presumptuous, but the answer is yes, I would be _honored_ to accompany you."

He huffed out a laugh in disbelief. He was in perpetual awe of her.

"Now you haven't a chance to ask otherwise without being rude, do you, Mr. Hatt?"

Gordon tutted playfully at her cheekiness.

"Oh, the cleverness of you, Miss O'Leary."

* * *

"I'm surprised you haven't started preparing yet, James," Emily said with a smirk, some of her enthusiasm having returned in the hope that Victor would show up tonight. "It's already 4. Don't you usually start getting ready for these things just after lunch?"

It was all an effort to annoy him as he sat at the corner desk in the parlor, struggling to finish a stack of accumulated papers and forms for the quarry. James always let his work pile up to a foolish degree, then he would force himself to finish it all in a day's time...it was just the misfortune of things that this day happened to fall on that of the rescheduled Gala.

"If I can finish this lot _at all_ ," he grumbled. "I shall have to settle for looking less than my best- and thank you so much, _Emily_ , for rubbing salt in the wound."

Emily rolled her eyes and huffed out a laugh as she began dismantling the curlers from her hair in the hallway mirror.

"If you would do your work at a reasonable pace the rest of the time you wouldn't have to worry about things like this. It serves you right."

James tensed with the force of having to prevent himself from rallying back at her. An argument would only keep him from finishing everything when he still might have time to make himself look halfway decent.

It was about this time that the butler came into the room to announce a visitor, a one Mr. Montague Collett, an engine driver for the railway...secondary alias, just _Duck_ , a nickname given for his odd walk due to a wartime injury.

James turned in his seat to glare at whoever was looking his direction.

"What in god's name is _he_ doing here? On a day like today?" He shook his head. "Whatever it is, I can't be bothered. Send him on his way."

"Now hold on, James," Emily countered. "If he's gone to the trouble of coming here it must be something important. I'll see to him."

The butler led Emily to the entrance foyer where Duck was not so patiently waiting. His face was stern until he saw Miss Hatt arrive in her dressing gown. To this he blushed and looked away, being a more traditional man and still uncomfortable with the idea of women greeting their visitors this way. It also had something to do with the idea of seeing his boss' daughter 'indecent'. Emily ignored this.

"Mr. Collett," she smiled in greeting. "I have to say, you've chosen an odd time to visit. Is there something I can help you with?"

"I didn't want to have to come here, Miss Hatt," Duck admitted. "And I realize it's a tricky occasion but my concerns weren't being answered and I didn't have much choice otherwise. It's to do with my paychecks-"

"Mr. Collett, that is a matter for the accounting office," Emily explained, now a bit annoyed. She didn't dislike Mr. Collett in the least, but she was irritated at the idea that he thought it appropriate to bring such a benign issue to his employer's estate.

" _Yes_ , yes, Miss Hatt, I know, but Harv's still ill and Mr. Scholl doesn't know how things are done. We've been working overtime this past week or so because of all the hullabaloo, but I've yet to see any of it-"

Emily squared her shoulders and sighed. "I'm _sure_ you will get your wages in good time, Mr. Collett. Overtime payment takes longer to process, you should know this."

"Well, not _this_ long, surely!"

Duck was beginning to get a bit distraught, sweat beading on his forehead. Emily didn't much care for the rude display so she instructed the butler to see him out. He called out,

"No, no, no, wait, please! Miss Hatt, I-..." he looked at the ground, truly humbling himself now with the confession that sat on the tip of his tongue. "Truth is, I've...I've some outstanding debts."

This successfully caught her attention. She dismissed the butler and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Are you in some kind of trouble, Mr. Collett?"

"...yes, if I'm honest. It's nothing...it's nothing big on its own, but I fear what'll happen to my ailing mother if I can't make ends meet this month. I have to buy her medication somehow."

"Oh, you poor man…"

Emily frowned at his plight and considered her options. Surely if father could regularly buy outlandish gifts for his mistress, Emily could get a payment advance for Mr. Collett given his dire circumstances. She led him to the parlor with James and instructed him to wait while she put something together for him. As soon as she was out of earshot and sight, James turned around once more to glare at their guest.

Duck was now stretched out, making himself at home there on the sofa, a self-satisfied smirk telling the whole story.

"I suppose you think you're clever," James sneered. "With that whole lark about your _ailing mother_."

"It's not _untrue_ ," Duck argued. "My mother isn't well...she's just financially set and doesn't, nor has never needed my help. What's a _lark_ is the fact that I've got to come up here and inspire sympathies to get paid on time. This sort of thing would've never happened on the Great Western."

James rolled his eyes and made no effort to hide it.

"If you love the Great Western so much, I don't see why you can't just go back. Do us all a favor."

"Considered it," Duck said. "But I can't have my own branch line there. And when I _do_ get paid here, it's much better wages. I'd say I'm here to stay, James, like it or not."

James _didn't_ like it. There was not one thing he could say was redeemable about Duck's smugness and his constant talk of how great things were on the mainland. What did that old fuddy duddy have to be proud of, anyway? At the end of the day, he was an engine driver, no one of consequence. The fact that he was in their home, no doubt soiling their couch's upholstery with his coal-stained clothes was insult enough.

James had more to say on the matter, but it was then that Emily returned with a check covering Duck's overtime and then some.

"Oh, thank you, Miss Hatt!" Duck beamed, taking on his act of helplessness once more. He made to take the envelope from her but she didn't release her grip right away.

"I'm afraid I must ask you for a _small_ favor in return," she said with a bit of a knowing smirk. "I've a letter for Mr. Castillo at the Steamworks and I seem to have missed the postman. Can you see that he gets it within the next hour and a half?"

Duck balked a little, wondering how Miss Hatt could go from charitable and sympathetic to requesting that he earn the favor...before realizing that she must have heard him gloating to James after all.

"Ah, well...yes, of course I can do that, Miss Hatt. I...needed to stop off one of the locomotives there as it happens."

Emily gave Duck his payment along with the intended letter. James couldn't do much in the way of holding back his snickering.

"Be sure that he gets it within the timeframe I specified," Emily reminded Duck as she walked him to the front door. "Otherwise I'll have to call your dear mother and have a talk with her, won't I, Mr. Collett?"

Duck feigned a smile and a laugh before grumbling under his breath out the door, no choice but to fulfill his boss' daughter's assignment.

* * *

Despite the catastrophes that had surrounded the Charity Race and Gala thus far, Sir Robert's words of encouragement carried the Sudrians through to living it up to the fullest on Gala night- _that_ , and the reminder that all financial support would go to helping those that needed it. It was a night of glamour and fun, accessible to all, held at the newly restored Ulfstead Castle. Thanks to the clear weather the guests needed nothing but the wheel of dazzling stars to serve as their decorative ceiling in the courtyard.

But the live jazz band, the drinks and the canapes certainly didn't go unappreciated.

It wasn't long into the evening that the Hatt family arrived at the far end of the courtyard.

This was yet another failed attempt on Sir Topham Hatt's part to present a united front to the press, Gordon insisting on being absent without explanation once more. Sir Topham was so fed up with his eldest son that he had been seriously considering sacking him. He couldn't have someone close to Diesel 10 working in such an influential position for the railway, after all...but he also didn't appreciate being used for leverage this way by a family member that clearly didn't value his family in kind.

"I'm...going to go mingle a bit," Emily said, unexpectedly peeling away from them as well. It wasn't like her to enjoy attending these events, much less make herself a social butterfly.

"Emily, I don't think-" Sir Topham started to say, cut off by Lady Jane placing a hand on his shoulder and whispering discreetly, "This is the first time our Emily is making an effort to socialize at a Gala. We shouldn't discourage that, darling, it's important."

Sir Topham nodded in reluctant agreement. Besides, with Gordon missing from the picture it made little difference one way or the other.

James, however, was not so amenable. He and Gordon normally flocked together to make disparaging commentary in a corner of the room at events like these. He had been hoping Emily might at least make an effort to substitute for company, he couldn't be expected to just follow his mother and father around like a duckling!

He sent her a look of betrayal just before she was able to scamper off with a clear conscience.

"Oh, what's the matter with _you_?" She sighed, gloved hands on the hips of emerald-green dress.

James crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, I don't know _who_ you expect to keep me company in this awful place if you're just going to scurry off. At least have the decency to bring me with you."

"I'm sorry, James, but it's high time I navigate one of these events on my own. You'd do well to do the same- maybe meet some people, form some manners."

He huffed, resolute to not do any of the things she suggested.

"If all else fails," she smirked. "You could look around to see if Mr. Collett made it. You two seem to get along so famously, after all."

Before James could properly show his offense at the mere implication she had disappeared into the crowds, feathered headband and all.

Not long after this, the fourth member of the immediate Hatt family arrived. Gordon was never happier or prouder to attend a Gala as he was tonight, with the beautiful Caitlin O'Leary on his arm. She was, in his opinion, the crown jewel of the guests tonight with her sequined, lilac pink gown and her angelic blonde curls framed around her rosy-cheeks. Indeed, many of the people they passed stopped to look at her, unable to recognize who she was in her finery.

"I don't think I've ever cleaned up so well," she giggled, not unaware or ashamed of the stares they were getting. "Thank goodness for it- I wouldn't have made a fair match for my handsome gentleman friend otherwise."

"Oh, tish tosh," Gordon playfully tutted, though he allowed himself some pride in her compliment. He had always fancied himself handsome, after all. "These looks of awe are for _you_ , Miss O'Leary."

They wasted no time in joining the other couples in dancing, Gordon completely apathetic as to whether or not his father saw them. He had never been as happy as he was in Caitlin's company. That alone was worth _any_ consequence.

"I do wish Connor could be here," she said after a while, when the music slowed and they had caught their breath. "He _so_ deserved to have a good time after all his hard work."

Gordon hadn't asked Caitlin how her brother had taken the news and didn't plan to do so now. He assumed she would tell him in her own good time- though the way she had begun to frown now and look towards the grass told him Connor hadn't accepted it enthusiastically. No one would've expected that from him, anyhow.

Instead, Gordon gently tilted her chin upwards and offered her a sympathetic smile.

"I suppose we'll just have to give him a special celebration when gets out of hospital. Perhaps my Uncle Robert wouldn't mind having us here again- a smaller, more private gathering. A dinner under the stars?"

Caitlin said nothing. Her thanks came in wrapping her arms around Gordon's neck and hugging him longer than she had before.

"Connor would _love_ that. Thank you, Gordon."

Elsewhere at the party Emily continued to wander and search for the man she had been anticipating. It had only been a half hour or so, but the less sign of Victor there was the more convinced she became that he wouldn't come after all. Her first theory was that Duck hadn't delivered the letter, that if she was clever she would've agreed to pay him only _after_ he had performed the task- but there simply hadn't been time. Her second theory was that whether he had gotten the letter or not didn't matter; Victor wouldn't show up because he didn't care for her. This was the thought that made her heart sink from where it had been lifted so high in excitement.

She was not a pretty girl. She was not a charming girl. She was plain and bossy and grating, her only appeal being a wealthy family of title, things a man like Victor had no interest in.

Emily turned away from the entrance to the courtyard, defeated, ready to go offer James the horrible company he had asked of her...when someone grabbed her hand. She was so flabbergasted at the forward gesture that she turned, ready to demand that they unhand her immediately, until she saw that the one responsible was none other than Victor Castillo. He had arrived after all.

"Victor!" She gasped, her world brightening once more. How strange and wonderful that someone could have such a sway over her.

Victor smiled back and, to her delight, took her other hand in his own.

"My apologies for being late. I meant to arrive an hour earlier but Kevin knocked down several shelves just as I was leaving the Steamworks."

Emily laughed, her cheeks reddening in her happiness.

"Your own fault for letting him use that crane."

Victor took her arm and led her out to join the dozens of other couples already engaged in the music.

"Your letter said you had something you wanted to discuss with me," Victor said. "But I had hoped you might first allow me the privilege of a dance- or _two_."

Emily was more than eager to accept his offer. The discussion he mentioned would address something she'd rather discuss after the fact, when they'd already had time to enjoy each other's company. She was unsure of the effect they'd have- potentially, they could ruin everything. Better that they be allowed some happiness before the inevitable.

Off they went, while Gordon grudgingly gave up Caitlin to his cousin, Stephen, for a requested dance. He worried as to the effect a polite, well-spoken man of the realm would have on her, but didn't want to deny her the opportunity to spend time with better company. Gordon moved to the edge of the courtyard.

In a short amount of time Sir Robert found him, his face already reddened from the amount of sherry he'd had (the sloshing glass in his hand evidence to the fact). Gordon groaned when he saw his Uncle coming and made a futile attempt to escape before he was noticed, knowing full-well how the man could be under the influence.

"Gordon!" Sir Robert exclaimed, grabbing his shoulder before he could move elsewhere. "My dear boy, are you enjoying yourself? You look to be in low spirits. Can I offer you something to drink? I find a good stiff beverage clears my head of all nastiness- until the morning, anyhow!"

Sir Robert laughed at his own joke as if it was the funniest he'd ever heard. Gordon sighed and rolled his eyes, wondering how it was possible he was related to this man by blood.

"I am _fine_ , Uncle, thank you."

Sir Robert gestured towards Caitlin out in the middle of the courtyard, still dancing with Stephen.

"I saw you in her company earlier this evening. She seems quite taken with you."

Gordon blushed at this, despite himself. Even if it was something he'd so desperately love to believe, the last thing he wanted to discuss with his Uncle was his relationship with Caitlin.

"Oh, you needn't worry about Stephen," Sir Robert continued, his arm now wrapped affectionately -and for want of support under the influence of his drinks- around Gordon's shoulders. "His...tastes run different from yours."

Gordon was unsure of what his Uncle meant, uncomfortable with asking for clarification. He reiterated, a bit more firm this time,

"I am _fine_ , Uncle Robert, I assure you. I'm merely giving Miss O'Leary time to dance with whomever she pleases, that's all."

"And what of you? Shouldn't you be taking the same opportunity?"

"I am-...uninterested in dancing with anyone else…"

Gordon made his confession in a grumble under his breath, hoping Sir Robert wouldn't be able to hear him amidst all the noise. Of course, he did anyway with perfect clarity.

" _Ah_ , so you are as taken with her as she is with you. Well, this is _splendid_! I do hope you realize what sort of gift you've been given and I hope you won't take it _or her_ for granted, Gordon. Given you've brought her out in your company despite what your father might think tells me I've nothing to fear."

Gordon watched Caitlin from where he stood as she danced and laughed, easily the most visible sight in the whole crowd of guests. It was from her that all the light in the courtyard seemed to resonate. He had already mulled over what his father might have said, how he might have felt about his eldest son's relationship with a Irish horse rider (even in light of his recent transgressions, all of them much 'worse'). Gordon found none of it, no hypothetical he could drum up, mattered when he was with her.

" _Bugger_ what my father thinks," he said without too much hesitation, to which Sir Robert laughed in surprise. "I'm the one who doesn't deserve her- _not_ the other way around."

Sir Robert patted Gordon on the back sympathetically.

"Trust me, dear boy, I felt the same as you many years ago with Stephen's mother. It's an understandable thing, but don't use it as justification to push her away. If you care for her, let the decision of what she deserves rest with her and her alone- and, of course, do your best to be the man you believe deserves her. She's chosen _you_. Don't make her feel like a fool."

Gordon knew it was sound advice, the kind he very much needed to hear. He also supposed it was somewhat comforting his Uncle could still dispense wisdom even after a few too many sherries.

Morbid curiosity, however, got the better of him long enough to scan the crowd for any sight of his father. Gordon couldn't help but wonder if they had been seen, if Sir Topham would already be fixing him with a disapproving stare that promised of ostracizing him from the family after all of his unforgivable behavior.

But this wasn't the case. Sir Topham was present and visible, but far too wrapped up in a friendly discussion with Thomas Huntington (who else?) to care about where Gordon was or whose company he might be keeping.

This awoke a resurgence of frustration and jealousy in him, the sort that made him need to peel away from the crowds for a moment and catch his breath. He didn't want Caitlin to see or experience him this way.

It was when he had moved from the main hub of activity to a patch of near-silence that he caught a familiar whiff of cigar smoke. The smell alone had become something of a forewarning of Diesel 10's approach, though, much like the sound of a gun shooting out of a barrel, sensing it often meant it was already too late to escape unscathed.

"Lovely evening, isn't it, Mr. Hatt?" Diesel 10 crooned, slipping around a corner like a snake stalking its prey. The bruisers, Paxton and Danny Diesel, accompanied him once more, making Gordon wonder if he wasn't about to get roughed up and mobbed.

Not too far off the youngest Hatt sibling and her partner, Victor, had danced their fill and were traipsing away to get a moment of their own privacy. They hadn't drank a single drop of alcohol, yet both were near inebriated on the sheer excitement of being in one another's company. This Gala wasn't the same as working alongside in the Steamworks. Here, they could dance and laugh and hold one another close while blending into the waves of glittering fabric and moving limbs that was the throng of guests.

Now, they were free to be alone, completely. Now, they would speak of things they hadn't yet.

"I was worried you wouldn't come," Emily confessed, holding on to Victor's arm as they moved through the moonlit castle gardens. "I thought...maybe you didn't care for me."

Nothing could have been further from the truth. It was apprehension for what might happen if they explored this that held Victor back, not a repulsion from her.

"I thought that might be what you wanted to discuss. I think it's high time we did. We can't dance around our feelings forever."

Emily stopped and turned to look at him, her eyes sparkling with hope that he was saying what she was sure he must have been.

" _Our_ feelings, Victor…?"

He smiled at her and brushed her cheek with his thumb.

"I can't deny what I feel for you...no matter how much I tell myself I should. You have to know that. But what future would there be? If your father knew-"

"I am my _own_ woman," Emily protested. There were so many matters in which she could begrudgingly tolerate not being treated as an autonomous being; this was not one of them. "Whether my father sees that or not, it is the truth. I should be allowed to decide my own fate, with whom I spend my time. If I care for you and you care for me...that should be all that matters."

Victor huffed out a laugh and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

"You forget your father is my employer...and that he could have me sent back to my country if he wished it."

Emily faltered at her own selfishness. _Of course_. She didn't want to believe her father would do such a thing but he had been prone to dramatics and extremes before.

"It's not fair," she hissed, tears building in her eyes. "He can do whatever he wishes. He can shame our entire family with his public mistress, but I have to follow in lockstep with propriety and expectation. I can't be my own person. It's _not_ fair... "

Victor wiped her tears away with his thumbs and tilted her head to look at him.

"You _are_ your own person, Emily. There is nothing your family, nor anyone else can do to stifle you. You will find your own way. I know you will."

The wisdom in the decision to press forward and kiss Victor right then was not considered when Emily did just that. She knew only the warm swelling of her heart and the need to express just how much he had come to mean to her, whether there was a future for them or not. Victor could do nothing but kiss her back, hold her close to him, allow the rest of the world and its weighty consequences to disappear around them if only for a blissful moment.

They took it as a foregone conclusion no one could see them, but they were wrong. Diesel 10 had led Gordon on a cordial walk to a very strategic location, right within viewing distance of Victor and Emily in the gardens. Gordon forgot whatever they were discussing when he caught sight of the joined couple. The anger that he already felt from earlier rose to a boiling point, then an outright eruption.

Without so much as an attempt to excuse himself he charged over to the scene, pulled the both of them apart, and landed a hard punch on Victor's jaw. Emily screamed, something between a shriek of surprise and her older brother's name.

"You keep your hands _off_ of my sister," Gordon growled.

Victor hadn't been knocked to his feet, but the blow had made his mouth bleed and jaw hurt. Perhaps such a thing begged a response from him in kind, but he wasn't that kind of man, nor could he really fault for Gordon for being protective.

"Gordon, this isn't what you think it is," he attempted as Emily clutched to his side.

"Don't patronize me, Mr. Castillo, I know _exactly_ what this is. You think you can charm and beguile a naive young woman out her money and innocence!"

Now it was Emily's turn to get angry. She rounded on her brother.

"I am _not_ naive! And you know _nothing_ of the situation, nothing at all! You know nothing of Victor!"

It was then that Caitlin appeared running down the hill to meet them, having lost sight of her companion and concerned as to where he had gone.

"Gordon?" She asked as she arrived on the scene, unsure of what she was looking at. "...what's the matter?"

Emily was flabbergasted to see Caitlin O'Leary here, and _with_ Gordon no less! What right did he have to make judgements of her situation when he gallivanted about in public with someone like her?

"You really are no better than father," Emily said darkly, glaring at Gordon as she held Victor close to her.

She helped Victor away then to tend to whatever wounds he had sustained from Gordon's strike. This didn't go unnoticed to Caitlin. She turned to Gordon with a look of dismayed surprised, begging him to explain what she had just seen. She didn't want to believe he had just struck an innocent man.

It was then that Gordon realized his folly and the thought of, " _Dear God, what have I done?'_

Ran through his mind. That thought alone might have been his savior if it wasn't for the awful power of the beast that was his pride.

"It would serve her well to better consider the company she keeps," Gordon muttered, brushing off his suit jacket.

Caitlin's eyes narrowed.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Gordon's mouth gaped for a moment at a lack of a response, realizing he had _really_ stepped in it now.

"A-...a mechanic from god knows where!" He spluttered, undeterred despite himself. "Has she lost sense completely? The only appeal he has to her is the attempt to defy her family."

Caitlin's anger was seething but quiet, making it all the more terrifying, visible only in the way her sharp blue eyes flashed. Even Diesel 10 and his men had backed up in respect for her temper.

"And what am I, Gordon, if not a simple horse rider from _god knows where_? Unapproved for the noble elite, goodness knows. Is that all I am to _you_? An act of defiance?"

Even the beast of pride bowed to Caitlin's anger. All Gordon was left with was stuttering hopelessness and a desperation to convince her not to turn her back on him.

"Wh-what? No, Caitlin, I didn't mean-"

She shook her head and made to walk away.

"You struck that poor man. You've made your own intentions and character clear. I'm going home to see Connor and then we'll head back to Dublin when he's recovered. I should have never come. I should have never considered staying. What a foolish notion!"

Gordon's heart broke for the first time in his life as he watched Caitlin storm off. He had tried to be the man she deserved, but in the end his pride and temper had overtaken him as it always would. It would be his ruin in all things, and yet, he deferred to it yet again. Anger and determination were emotions with which he wielded some control, things that made him strong; love and sadness only weakened.

"I've made my decision," Gordon said through gritted teeth as he turned back to Diesel 10. "I will agree to your terms. This railway will face only ruin if not given the proper control."

Diesel 10 smiled triumphantly, as unsurprised as he was that his scheme had worked. Naught but a few steps left and the Northwestern would be as good as his.

"I cannot tell you how relieved I am to hear such a thing, Mr. Hatt. We _must_ celebrate. Come, let's away from this ghastly place for drinks!"

* * *

Thomas had only just gotten back to his friends from extensive discussion with Topham Hatt that had lasted him a good bit of the night. He couldn't find it in him to care. Never in his wildest dreams did he think Sir Topham Hatt of all people would take to him as a friend, a protege. It was an amazing turn of events and one that was doing some serious manipulation to his ego, making him cheekier and cockier than ever before. It was, unfortunately, a trend that would continue and perhaps contribute to the trouble that found him later in the evening.

"Goodness, Thomas. One might think Sir Topham's companion for the evening was _you_ rather than Lady Jane," Rosie teased, though there was the slightest irritation to her voice as if she had been hoping he might have asked her to dance at least once.

"No wonder Gordon Hatt's been so ornery," Percy said. "I don't think Sir Topham has spent that much time with him in his entire life."

Percy, by this point, had imbibed more cordial than he would have normally and so had gotten a bit daring in the things he said. Sober Percy would've never verbalized such a thing out loud.

"Oh, I don't care what that old grump thinks. He's unpleasant enough as it is, but I think he's up to something else. He spends too much time with that Diesel 10 character to not be. Maybe he's trying to cook up a way to scam his own father out of the railway for himself!"

Percy went wideyed and pointed to something behind Thomas. "Look, there he is...it looks like-...is that Diesel 10 and his men? Is Gordon _leaving_ with them?"

Thomas turned out to confirm this sighting. Not only was Diesel 10 and his men exhibiting the gall to present themselves at a party they were most certainly not welcome, but Gordon Hatt was, without question, accompanying them out the door.

"I'm going to follow them," Thomas said, decisive. It was his duty and obligation to Sir Topham to get to the bottom of this. Rosie, however, got a hold of his arm to pull him back and Percy protested with an incredulous, "Are you _crazy_?!"

"Maybe I am, Percy, but if something bad comes of this are either of you going to be able to live with the thought that we did nothing? That we didn't even _try_? Stay here if you like. I'm going to investigate."

Rosie and Percy exchanged concerned, disbelieving looks, knowing full-well they weren't going to let their friend venture off on such a dangerous venture alone. The decision was already made without a word.

"We'll come with you, Thomas," Rosie said, though the hesitation was not gone from her voice.

"We wouldn't be very good friends otherwise," Percy agreed.

It was an agreement born out of their sense of loyalty to him as a friend rather than a need to do what was right for the railway, but Thomas would take it. The idea of going at this alone terrified him.

"Let's go then! Thought...I don't suppose anyone has access to a car?"


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Stuff picks up and the plot thickens in this one. That's all I can think to say, really? ENJOY, PLEASE LEAVE YOUR THOUGHTS IN THE FORM OF A POLITELY WORDED REVIEW

* * *

As planned, Thomas, Rosie and Percy pursued Gordon and Diesel 10's group out of the warmth and safety of the Gala to the quiet, foreboding night. They kept out of sight by hiding behind shrubs, trees, columns, whatever would give them coverage enough to stay hidden. Neither Diesel 10, nor Gordon, nor either of his men seemed suspicious or wary of anyone following them so this afforded Thomas and his friends some time and leeway to figure out their plan of action.

"We'll have to jump into the back of their truck," Thomas decided, speaking of the unmarked truck that Danny Diesel and Paxton were headed in the direction of while Diesel 10 and Gordon got into the red, seemingly expensive and brand-new automobile parked nearby- impressive, but otherwise impossible to get into without being seen.

"That's a shame," whispered Rosie with a wistful sigh. "I'd _so_ love to ride in that Peugeot 5cv. It debuted at the Tour de France recently and I-"

"Well, maybe if you ask Diesel 10 nicely enough he'll oblige you with a ride," Thomas rolled his eyes. How could she think of cars at a time like this? "Percy and I are taking the truck. We'll need to move quickly and jump in just as soon as they get the engine revved, so they won't notice a thump."

Even with the excess cordial Percy was starting to have his doubts about the mission.

"Thomas, what if we get caught?" There was a noticeable quiver of fear in his voice. "Wh-what do you think they'd do to us…?"

"We _won't_ get caught, Percy, not if we all lie low and keep quiet."

Thomas had no real way of guaranteeing this, of course, but both Percy and Rosie were fond of him despite it all and didn't want to be too cowed to force their friend to go at this alone. They chose to believe and follow him silently through the line of shrubs to as close to the back end of the truck as they could get.

"Do we know they're even going to the same place?" Rosie felt compelled to ask. Thomas wished she had just kept silent.

"No," he hissed back through his teeth. "But we don't have much choice, do we? We'll just have to assume they are."

"Did you hear that, Danny?" Asked Paxton then. He was believed to be the stupider of the entourage but his having heard their voices suggested otherwise.

Danny Diesel sighed in irritation, immersed as he was in finding the keys on his person.

"Hear _what_ , Paxton? There's no one around but us."

"I just thought I heard-...voices. Whispering, sounded like."

"A mouse or some such moving through the grass, surely."

"No, no, I definitely heard voices! It was most certainly, without a doubt, a vo-"

"A _ghost_ then! It was a _ghost_ , you bloody moron! The spirit of your departed mind, no doubt, if indeed you ever had one."

"But Danny, I know what I heard!"

"Shut up and get in the cab," Danny Diesel barked, shoving his cohort towards the passenger's side. "You didn't hear anything."

Paxton gave one more curious look around before doing as he was told, alerting Thomas to the fact that he was probably not so much dense as he was suggestible.

"I'll go first," Thomas said as soon as the two were in the truck and had the engine sputtering. He couldn't wait around for arguments or second thoughts, not if he intended to get on this truck before it started moving, so he got up and did just that almost as quickly as he had announced it. This upped the urgency for the hesitant Rosie and Percy and they cast aside their individual doubts long enough to follow suit.

Percy was smaller and less daring so Rosie and Thomas used their collective strength to help him into the back cab. This effort took far too long, however, as it was just as Rosie made to clamber in after him that the truck began to move forward. Danny Diesel, an expectedly impatient and reckless driver, wasted no time in accelerating forward as fast as the sputtering old truck would let him.

Rosie knew better than to scream even as she was being all but dragged along behind, her hands grasping to the back as her heeled feet did as best they could to run along behind at the same speed...but it was getting harder the faster Danny went.

"We've gotta pull her up!" Thomas said to Percy, doing his best to reach forward and grab as much of her arms as possible. With the jostling and bumping of the truck this was proving difficult.

"Rosie, you have to try to jump inside!" Thomas encouraged as soon as he had gotten a good hold of her. "Percy and I will pull you up the rest of the way!"

"M-Maybe I should just stay behind! I don't think-"

"Rosie, now!"

At Thomas' bidding she jumped forward. Had either he or Percy not been as quick with grabbing her as they were she would've no doubt tumbled out on to the dirt road and suffered, at best, a twisted ankle. As it was they managed her in and only her heeled shoe was broken beyond immediate repair.

"These were uncomfortable anyway," she said with a relieved sigh, tossing them both off and to the side off the truck bed.

She'd worry later about Edward's reaction when he found out she ruined her best (and most expensive shoes)...and when she'd inevitably return home long after curfew. This whole debacle would take quite a bit of finagling to convince her father she'd done no wrong.

"We're just glad you're okay, Rosie," Percy said with an encouraging smile. She patted his cheek in thanks and then looked to Thomas to see if he had any similar wishes- only to find him looking out the back of the burlap flaps, concentrating on the road behind them and otherwise apathetic to her plight.

"Don't leave those shoes," he said, an offhand thought. "We don't want them finding evidence of our being here."

Rosie harrumphed and crossed her arms and sat back in disappointment and frustration, wondering if Thomas was really the kind of boy that was worth risking this amount of trouble.

* * *

"I hadn't realized you resided so close to the island... "

Gordon's observation came after their drive over the bridge to the mainland lasted only another 15 minutes or so before they arrived at Diesel 10's abode. It was respectably sized, as a decent country or summer home would be, and placed out of the way on an unbeaten path into the woods.

"I've property in _many_ places," said Diesel 10, tapping the ashes of his cigar off the side of the car before the house staff greeted them and opened their doors. "The benefit of being a financial success- as _you_ will soon be too, Mr. Hatt."

Doubt started to arise in Gordon's mind once more, hesitancy twisting in his gut to the point of almost nausea. Speaking to Diesel 10 of these things casually had been one thing, going to his estate in the dead of night to do actual business was another. He had already crossed a point of no return, he knew that. There was no other way to get back to the island outside of Diesel 10's generous transportation. Gordon couldn't help but wonder if that was made with a certain specific intent in mind.

Well. No use to wondering now.

He was escorted in at Diesel 10's side, their hats and coats taken at the door as was done at the Hatt estate (Diesel 10's all but fetched from the floor as he tossed both to the side without a care for the butler). From the outside the sound of Danny Diesel and Paxton's truck could be heard puttering around to the back of the house. Gordon doubted there was any cargo -for whatever that cargo would normally be- just that it was too unsightly of a vehicle to have parked out in the front.

"I'll be conducting business with Mr. Hatt in the study. See to it that Danny and Paxton make their way over. The rest of you lot keep your noses _out_."

Diesel 10 addressed his staff, all of whom replied with a meek "very good, sir" and nod of the head before dispersing to their tasks. It was late in the evening to have a full staff present, Gordon knew this, and he couldn't say he much admired the way Diesel 10 addressed them. Every man deserved a measure of respect, even those of the working class.

Gordon also wondered that he wouldn't be taken to the parlor for drinks first. It was common and polite practice with his father and other businessmen he had spoken with, a gesture before the harsh formalities of offices and papers.

The charm Diesel 10 had oozed naught but an hour before was dissipating as time rolled on. Gordon began to think himself a fool for ever agreeing to this, but with big Danny and Paxton now on his heels, herding him into the house office like a cow to the slaughter, he was cornered.

* * *

As soon as the truck had come to a stop and the engine was turned off Thomas had to make the quick, executive decision to stay put rather than clamber out as quickly as possible. There was hardly any cargo among them, nary but a stray box here and there, so he thought it likely they wouldn't be unloading anytime soon. He had been right about that and grateful that he waited; if he'd had them jump out even a moment too soon one of the lingering staff members would've seen them for sure.

Thomas eyed the area to ensure all was clear and then jumped out first, followed by Rosie, then a still very fearful Percy. He moved them to the dark concealment of a nearby hedge before calculating the next step of their plan- finding a way into the house undetected. With one person it would've been a challenge, with _three_ people it might just prove impossible...if Thomas wasn't young and headstrong enough to believe that _nothing_ was impossible.

He chose to move them through the backdoor to the kitchen first- a daring choice, as that had been where the staff and Danny and Paxton had entered. As he could hear no noise, and as it was late at night, he assumed it would be empty and clear for them to sneak through. He led them through said darkened kitchen, underneath tables and around the cover of rolling carts, on towards the main hallway. He didn't know for sure where Diesel 10 had disappeared to with Gordon, but he wagered creeping on towards the main bit of the house was a good place to start.

They attempted to make their precarious way down a darkened hallway, the camouflage of the dark coupled with being pressed against the wall their only method of hiding until they could come to a better spot.

The sound of footsteps rounding quickly down the foyer made the friends disperse to the nearest hiding spots they could find; Thomas and Rosie underneath a decorative hallway table, Percy behind a potted plant. Only someone as small as him in the darkness of the hallway could've pulled off such a feat.

The footsteps were those of a young maid and a butler, heading opposite directions down the hallway until they met in the middle.

"Where are you taking that refreshment tray?" the butler demanded to know, his voice a terse whisper.

The meek maid answered, "T-the study, Mr. Flavasham. The master has a guest and I know it's policy to-"

"He asked specifically not to be disturbed. Were you not paying attention, you silly girl?"

"But sir! He told me to bring drinks every time, sir! We'll _all_ get in trouble if I don't!"

"...very well. But you are to leave it in the adjoining room by the door and make your presence scarce. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

The maid went on her way and the friends followed, now with a clear direction.

* * *

Gordon was trying to believe what was being told to him, that as per the outlines of the Northwest Railway's legal inheritance... _he_ was to be given control if anything should happen to his father. He wasn't sure how it could be true. Sir Topham had seemed so adamant to have anyone, _anything_ other than his eldest son in charge that he might have picked a man off the street to be Controller before he'd even think of handing it over to Gordon.

In truth, Gordon didn't think he could blame him...but it was the principle of the thing. His father had never favored him, had never trusted him with anything. He was certain he'd never be given a real chance to prove himself.

"I don't understand...why on earth would father have designated _me_?"

Diesel 10 tapped the ashes of his cigar.

"What other choice does he have? Lady Hatt certainly isn't qualified, neither is your sister for however much Sir Topham wishes she would be...and James? Would _you_ put James in charge of anything of consequence?"

"He does indeed preside over the Ffarquhar Quarry-"

"Anything of _consequence_."

Sir Topham did have an older son, Robert, but he had no interest or experience with railway management and was somewhat estranged from the family besides, so that left his father's only option... _him_. Gordon hadn't been aware he was so desperate.

"Mr. Hatt, it's a simple and fair proposition," Diesel 10 said, an edge of impatience to his voice. "When your father is inevitably disposed by the shareholders for his insistence to cling to the past, _you_ will ascend the ranks. Having already signed into partnership, you and I will work together and diesel transport will be readily available to you without any excess expenses or trouble. A smooth transition. It makes perfect sense, I'm sure you will agree."

Gordon had to admit, it did make sense, and for as underhanded as it was father would've never come around to it on his own. He had a duty to protect the railway. If he didn't agree, Diesel 10 would no doubt buy the whole thing out as soon as father was sacked...this way, the Hatts retained control. It was, in a word, _practical_.

"We've no idea how long a wait this will be," Gordon felt obligated to remind his business partner as he accepted the contract and pen. "Are we prepared to be patient?"

Diesel 10 smiled wickedly. "I've waited this long, haven't I?"

Determined not to get too caught up in his thoughts and talk himself out of the only option the Northwest Railway had left to them, Gordon began signing his signature on the first page...and then, without warning,

"No, Mr. Hatt, _stop_!"

It was Thomas Huntington, having popped out from somewhere near the door of the study. He raced over to the desk and grabbed the pen from Gordon's unprepared hand. Diesel 10 shot up before Gordon had the mental bearings to do so.

"What? _How_ -...! Get him, you clods!"

Danny and Paxton snapped to and seized Thomas around the upper arms before he could make any attempt to get away.

"Mr. Huntington," Gordon growled. He was perhaps the last person on earth Gordon wanted to see right now. "You've _some_ nerve following me here!"

"How dare you do this to Sir Topham!" Thomas rallied back as he wrestled futilely against Danny and Paxton's grip. "This is a lie! A deceit! He's your father, he-"

" _Enough_!" Gordon roared, using everything in him to not land a punch across Thomas' smug face. "You've _no_ idea what you're talking about, none at all! You may have wormed your way into my father's favor, but you cannot begin to understand the inner workings of this Railway, nor, do I suspect, that you have any care for what is best for the company and your beloved employer. You have overstepped, Mr. Huntington. If you have any compelling argument as to why I shouldn't terminate your employment immediately, _please_ make it now."

"Oh, I should think a worse fate…" Diesel 10 sneered, coiling out from behind his desk. "This young man is _trespassing_. He is no more than a common criminal and should be treated as such."

That gave Gordon pause. Perhaps there was some petty side of him that would've loved to have seen Thomas carted off by police and held in jail for a sentence...but even beyond his personal grudges, he could see that Thomas had come here with selfless motivation, out of concern for the Railway as a whole.

"If it's all the same to you, dear friend, I will see that he is held accountable when work resumes."

Diesel 10 seemed dissatisfied by this, but relented for the sake of his business partner.

"Very well. Danny, Paxton, please see Mr. Huntington out- _the back door_ , if you please."

They began to do just that, but it was Paxton that caught sight of and plucked Rosie, then Percy out from hiding where Thomas had originated.

"Those ladies shoes I found in the back bay of the truck must be yours!" Paxton deduced happily to Rosie, oblivious of the tension of the moment.

Gordon was _fuming_.

"How many more of you are there? Has the entire staff of the Northwest Railway found hiding places in this house? No, no...just _you three_ , I suppose. Well. I shall see to it that your merry band is dissolved. I don't think Knapford suits either of you anymore."

No one seemed to remember or care that Percy didn't work for the railway and was otherwise not accountable to Gordon- even Percy, himself.

The three were therefore taken away without complaint and Gordon sat back down to finalize his agreement with Diesel 10.

* * *

"Hey! You can't do this to us!" Rosie argued, despite the fact that it was quite clear that Diesel 10 _could_. They were locked in cells underneath the house and so they would remain there indefinitely.

Diesel 10 ignored her, perhaps deciding her argument was too stupid to be acknowledged.

"My dears, this will be your home for the indeterminate future. I do hope sneaking onto my property uninvited was worth it...but I suspect you did _not_ accomplish what you intended."

Thomas lunged forward in anger and frustration, as if he'd forgotten the bars were in place.

"You've exploited Gordon's insecurities to trick him into handing over the railway, haven't you? You convinced him he'd be part of everything, but you're going to dispose of him as soon as you can, him and Sir Topham!"

"You're-...you're not going to... _kill_ them, are you…?" Percy squeaked with some surprising reserve of gumption.

Diesel 10 cackled.

"Brilliant deduction, Mr. Huntington. And no, Mr. Monday, where would the enjoyment be in killing them? No, no. Sir Topham and son must bear witness to their failure. They must live out the rest of their miserable lives knowing that Diesel 10 had outwitted them and taken everything, like a thief in the night...and they've only themselves to blame. _You_ three, however…" He sucked thoughtfully on his cigar and eyed them with intent. "You three are of little use...and a liability to my plans should you be unleashed...it would be all too easy, you realize...the mischievous trio disappears into the night, remains missing for a month or two...washes up on the beach having evidently drowned during a drunken night swim. No one would suspect anything else, foolish as you all are."

Percy and Rosie remained silent, but Thomas knew they would be looking to each other hopelessly for comfort. He, however, would not go down without a fight.

"This isn't over, Diesel 10! You won't win this!"

Diesel 10 just smiled and said, "Oh, Mr. Huntingon. I already have!" before slinking out with his two cohorts.

* * *

Gordon did what he could to sneak back to the Hatt estate undetected, though he felt that his efforts would be thwarted the moment he stepped in the door. Sure enough it was not only the butler that greeted him, but his furious younger sister as well.

" _Where_ have you been?" Emily hissed in a whisper, as if someone on the other side of the palatial house might be roused from their conversation. "Off cavorting with another unsuspecting woman? No...Diesel 10, more like, since you've become such good friends. You should have appeared beside father at the Gala, Gordon! It's the least you could have done after-"

"Do _not_ lecture me on duty and obligation. You, of all people, have no right."

That she would even have the gall to do so mystified and frustrated him. They were both privy to her secret now.

"I suppose _striking_ a man makes you more of an expert on the subject? That was completely uncalled for. You know nothing of our relationship-"

"As _you_ know nothing of mine and have already passed judgement. Go to sleep, Emily. You're too naive to understand such things."

" _Naive_?" she gasped in furious shock. "If that were true why would father trust me with the railway, rather than you? You've let your bitterness cloud how you treat everyone in this family, when the fault lies with you, and you alone-"

"Gordon? Emily? What is the _meaning_ of this?" It was father, still blurry-eyed from sleep. His sudden presence made them both jump. "Gordon, you look as though you've only just arrived home. _Thoughtful_ of you to join us at last."

"Must I always disclose my whereabouts, Father?" Gordon scoffed as he discarded his coat and hat. "They didn't seem to be of much concern to either of you until this whole signal point business- which I am _not_ at fault for, I think I should remind you."

Sir Topham Hatt glared down at his son. " _That_ remains inconclusive. You've been seen in the company of none of other than the man who orchestrated it- or weren't you aware we've seen you, Gordon? How do you explain that, hmm?"

"I am _not_ obligated to explain the company I keep, father- not to you or anyone else in this bloody family."

Sir Topham was so taken back by his son's unprecedented nerve that he didn't have time to rally back before Emily was letting the cat out of the bag;

"How fortunate!" she exclaimed, sarcastic. "I suppose that means you owe none of us an explanation for how and why you became entangled with that Irish horse rider in the first place!"

"Caitlin O'Leary?" Sir Topham marveled, caught somewhere between indignance that Gordon would do such a thing and surprise at the fact that he had been able to find a willing woman at all. "Gordon, you can't be…!"

Gordon faltered, the pain of Caitlin's departure freshened by the reminder. He had been trying (and succeeding) so far to push it down where it couldn't hurt him.

"I am _not_ ," he clarified. "Not anymore. She wants nothing more to do with me, as I'm sure comes as no small relief to you, father. Relish it...as it is not _my_ romantic entanglements that should concern you, but _hers_."

Sir Topham's growing confusion was now redirected to his daughter. He hadn't been aware of her interest in any suitors! He hadn't been aware she was interested in marriage at all! Emily had never lied to or kept anything from him before, surely there was some mistake, an attempt on Gordon's behalf to redirect criticism.

"Gordon, have some integrity. I _know_ my own daughter; Emily hasn't any interest in suitors, there is _no_ prospective man in her life."

Gordon stared at Emily, witnessed the self-aware guilt on her face, and swore in his eyes that he would tell father if she didn't. Of course...she didn't.

" _Really_?" Gordon all but hissed. "Perhaps you should check that information with your Chief Engineer. The bruise on his jaw should be evidence enough that my story is true. What else would you have done, father, if you had found your only sister in the arms of your trusted employee?"

Sir Topham rounded on his daughter in shock. Still, he clung to some hopeful vestige that this wasn't true, even as he saw the tell-tale shame in her eyes. If either of his children were lying he'd much sooner believe it was Gordon.

"Emily…! This _can't_ be true. Tell me this isn't true, _**immediately**_!"

Emily looked to Gordon, her eyes burning with furious tears. If he felt any guilt of his own he pushed it down past the previous heartbreak. She had brought this on herself.

"It _is_ true, father…" she whimpered after a time. "I love Victor...and he loves me. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but it's all happened so fast and-"

"Enough."

Sir Topham turned his back on his children then. While to Gordon this wasn't in the least bit unfamiliar, Emily hadn't any idea how to handle a disappointment in her this deep. Perhaps it made him depraved, but Gordon relished seeing the favored Hatt child feel the same as he had every day of his life.

"I am retiring for the night," Sir Topham said, his voice grave. "Come tomorrow, I will handle this situation accordingly."

* * *

What remained of the night passed into morning, though the three friends being held captive by Diesel 10 were unaware of this due to the lack of windows in their cells. Their rooster call came in the form of big, bumbling Paxton, humming a tune as he brought some measly table scraps of food to them for breakfast. Rosie was the only one awake, mystified that Percy and Thomas could so easily sleep under the circumstances. Thomas' promise that he'd find a way out for them did little to assuage her fears.

"Oh, what's the use?" she sniffed at the food when it was slipped into her cell.

Oblivious Paxton giggled. "Well, it's _only_ the most important meal of the day, Miss! It wouldn't do to miss breakfast."

Rosie rolled her eyes.

"No, I mean...what's the use in feeding us if we're just going to be _killed_?"

"Oh, right. The boss says he...wants you to be well enough to be alert and aware when he kills you. Something like that!"

Paxton explained this so casually, as if giving directions to the corner store, and then continued on humming as he delivered Percy and Thomas their table scraps.

Rosie had nothing really to say to such a thing, so she leaned back and allowed herself the tears she had been avoiding all night. They really _were_ going to die, weren't they? There was nothing Thomas or her or Percy could do to stop it, she was sure.

Paxon was stunned. "Miss…? Miss, why are you crying…?"

"Why do _you_ think, you big dumb clod?" she yelled back through her sobs. "Your boss is going to murder me! For something I didn't even want to do! Stupid Thomas. Stupid plan! Fat lot of good it did! Gordon's going to get away with whatever he's done and it won't matter in the least when our bodies are floating in the bay somewhere…!"

Rosie doubled over in her cries then, her head buried in her folded arms. Paxton shuffled his weight and panicked a little, uncertain of how to deal with this.

"No, no, don't cry…!" he said, futilely. "Oh dear, she's not stopping...she's crying alright...I've never had one cry before…! C'mon, think, Paxton, what shall you do…?"

He reached through the bars with one pudgy hand and attempted to pet Rosie's shoulder in a comforting way. She swatted him off and all but hissed like a feral cat.

"Goodness me...you're really upset, Miss…" he marveled.

"I'll never see my father again. I'll never get to go back to my job. I _love_ my job. I'm only 19 years old, I've so much left to do…"

For the first time in his career as bruiser for Diesel 10, Paxton was facing a moral dilemma. True to his words, in all the time he'd been 'caring' for any victims Diesel 10 kept below in the cells, he'd never had one cry...maybe because they'd all been hardened, world-weary men that had earned their sentence in falling out of Diesel 10's good graces (usually by not making a debt payment). The young lady before him was the first...and maybe, just _maybe_ she didn't deserve her sentencing.

But could he do it? Could Paxton defy Diesel 10? Could he even...let the prisoners go free…? Well, maybe just the girl…

"I-...I'd like to let you go, Miss...but I'm afraid I'm not very good at being sneaky. Danny and Diesel 10, they're the brains...I'm just the brawn."

Rosie's cries finally subsided. She looked up at him, sniffed and wiped her eyes.

"You'd-...you'd let me go…? But why…?"

"Well, I-...I don't think it's right to hurt an innocent girl…! And, and-...in all fairness, when I took this job I never agreed to hurt innocent young girls! So, all things considered, I'm well within my rights to set you free!" Paxton broke from his feigned confidence to ask her, uncertainly, "...that sounds reasonable, right? Something the boss would understand if he found out…?"

Rosie smiled and shook her head.

"I'm afraid I don't think so...but don't you worry. As it so happens, I'm fairly clever and I might be able to formulate a plan so that it looks as if we simply...broke free on our own."

"Oh," said Paxton sadly. "Well, I suppose you won't need me then."

"Of course we will! _Someone_ has to unlock these cells, after all...and I suspect you know _exactly_ where Diesel 10 keeps the keys!"

Paxton nodded, renewed in his confidence.

"As a matter of fact, I do! It certainly does feel nice to be useful for once. But...you'll have to be patient. Diesel 10 keeps the keys in his office at the station. He rarely leaves it."

"I can wait so long as you can keep your boss from killing us," Rosie promised.

Paxton nodded, saluted her as he might a Captain, and trotted off proudly to undertake his part of his and Rosie's ingenious plan.

* * *

When Sir Topham had bid that Gordon accompany him to the Steamworks, Gordon couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and hopefulness. Though his father may have been put out with him, less so was he than the anger and betrayal he felt towards Emily and Chief Engineer Castillo. At a loss of being able to trust his daughter anymore the future of the railway now lay in his eldest son...all the more important that he be present when dealing with said Chief Engineer.

Gordon's elation with this lasted as long as the car ride to the Steamworks, and then a bit longer as the two of them marched up with purpose.

"Oh, uh-...hello, Sir Topham! Mr. Hatt! How can I-" Kevin's attempt at being cordial, despite the very clear looks of determination on their faces, was cut short by Sir Topham.

"I've come only for Mr. Castillo. Inform him that he is to meet with me in his office at once."

Kevin looked stunned, for even _he_ must have sensed the gravity of this situation, but nodded dutifully and scurried off to do as he was asked. Sir Topham and Gordon moved on to the office, wherein the former of the two took a seat at the desk.

Gordon found himself impressed. What a sight that must be to walk into one's office, only to see one's employer in the desk chair! How frightening!

The look of self-satisfaction on his eldest son's face did not go unnoticed by Sir Topham. He addressed this with a, "Don't be so pleased with yourself, boy. I've yet to deal with _you_."

This did the job in knocking Gordon down a few pegs, which he immediately tried to conceal as Victor arrived in the office. There was but a moment of shock on his face, as it didn't take Victor long to piece together what had happened, what with both Gordon _and_ his father present.

"Mr. Castillo, you are to be gone by the end of the day. I wish to never see you on or near this railway again- or, indeed, this island."

Now it was Gordon's turn to be shocked. He understood that his father was angry, he knew full-well that revealing Emily's secret would mean heavy consequences for both his sister and Victor, but...immediate termination with no explanation? That didn't seem fair.

"Father...perhaps I ought to explain to Mr. Castillo why his employment is being terminated-"

"Mr. Castillo gave no preemptive reason or explanation for taking advantage of my daughter," Sir Topham snapped back. "He'd have been keen to continue it behind my back as long as he could, perhaps until he swindled her out of money. I see no reason why should I extend any courtesy."

"Sir, _please_ ," Victor said finally. Gordon noticed that the Chief Engineer's normally very steady hands were shaking. "Please allow me to explain."

Sir Topham's resulting silence was permission enough.

"I hid nothing from either of you apart from what I wanted to hide from myself. What Gordon witnessed in the castle gardens last night was our first and only kiss. I admit...I care very deeply for Emily. I told myself not to act on those feelings many, _many_ times and I had been successful...last night was a moment of weakness. There was no secret relationship. There never would have been. Please, Sir. In all the years I've been serving you...please, at least tell me that you believe I would not do this."

Sir Topham remained silent, seemingly brooding over the question in the uncomfortable quiet that ensued.

"Sir…" Victor continued after a time. "If my employment is terminated I will have to return to my country...you know what that will mean for me, Sir."

Gordon didn't, however.

"Is your country really that intolerable, Mr. Castillo?" he asked out of genuine curiosity.

"Intolerable or not...if I am made to return, I will be put to death. It is the punishment for defying one's government."

Gordon felt a chill run down his spine. Oh, if only he'd known! When cursing Emily the other night he never meant for things to go so pear-shaped. He _certainly_ never meant to doom another man to death.

"Father," Gordon turned to Sir Topham with a renewed sense of urgency. "Perhaps...perhaps immediate termination is a bit uncalled for. I-...I believe what Victor says is true. He doesn't deserve to be put to death because of _one_ moment of weakness, surely…!"

Sir Topham glared at Gordon, then Victor, still seeming to toss the matter over in his mind as to whether or not his son had a point. Gordon could only guess he was contemplating something along the lines of, 'well, if he desired to avoid execution, he might've thought that over beforehand…'.

"What do _you_ propose we do, Gordon?" Sir Topham sighed, resigned.

Gordon raced through his thoughts for a moment, hoping against hope that he could think of something, some alternative to offer Victor to being sent back. He was sure _anything_ would do...apart from continuing employment on Sodor. Even a kiss with Emily was reason enough for Sir Topham to lose all faith in an employee.

Then, it came to him- all by happenstance as he recalled an unfortunate ramble from Mr. Collette naught but a week ago.

"The Great Western Railway, father...as it happens, they are in _dire_ need of engineers. I'm sure Mr. Castillo's talents will be more than appreciated there...if we put in a good word...give him time to transition, perhaps…?"

Sir Topham seemed more than begrudging, but Gordon knew he didn't want to willingly condemn Victor to death either. He eventually nodded his head in agreement.

"Very well. You have the week, Mr. Castillo. In the meantime, you will keep your distance from Emily, as she will from you."

Victor bowed his head in shame. "Yes, sir."

Sir Topham rose and left then, bidding Gordon follow him. This he did, hoping that the uncomfortable encounter was over...but Victor stopped him with a surprisingly gentle hand on his arm.

"I wish you had come to me first, Mr. Hatt," Victor said. "Or Emily. Or both. I wish you'd have allowed us to explain things before getting your father involved. He'd have never understood."

The guilt Gordon felt now was immense, but being that he was trained on patting such a thing down he answered Victor with a stone face.

"Then...surely you understand there was no future anyhow."

"I understood that regardless. It need have never come to this."

Gordon couldn't allow himself to believe that Victor may have been right. He simply shook his head, offered an ineffective, 'I'm sorry,' and continued following his father back to the car.


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Alright, there's some prejudice-y kind of stuff that comes up in here, pretty much entirely a wealth vs poor thing than anything else. This is the opinion of the characters, formed by their own personal biases and experiences, not my own. There's also a purposeful homage to Blue Mountain Mystery in here if you squint. REVIEW, PLS I WANT YOUR THOUGHTS!

* * *

For the first time in a seemingly very long time Emily had been sequestered at home, barred from leaving by a staff that had been given very clear instructions on her punishment. She was therefore left with no option but to sit and wallow in her sadness, personal mortification, and fear of what her father would do to Victor. She waited for him towards the end of the day on the sofa in the parlor in quiet tears, making things quite uncomfortable for the household staff and her mother who felt no choice but to keep herself busy with errands all day- outside of the house, naturally.

When Sir Topham arrived home with James and Gordon, Emily launched herself off the sofa and directly at them.

"What have you done to him?" she demanded to know, her voice hoarse from crying all day. "Tell me exactly what you've done! Gordon, tell me what he's done!"

"Emily! Good god, get a hold of yourself," Sir Topham did _not_ like being barraged the moment he stepped into the house. "I have done what _must_ be done- a consequence you might have considered before pursuing the course of action you've taken. Now, I have a lot on my mind. Two of my best employees have gone missing. Kidnapped, perhaps, or worse...please try to put your own concerns into perspective."

Lady Hatt had arrived on the scene then, carrying a tray of tea. It wasn't common for her to assume such duties but knowing how tense things had been with her family she hoped it might provide some sort of balm...she really was at a loss.

"Victor will be _put to death_ if you let him go!" Emily called after her father as he brushed past her. "He's a fugitive in his country for speaking his own mind, surely you wouldn't-"

"A consequence _you_ should have considered!" He roared back again, his voice reverberating all over the house like an earthquake.

Lady Hatt gasped out a soft, "Oh dear…" as Sir Topham continued on his way to his private office.

Emily dissolved into tears then, causing Gordon to pause. Even beyond his own self-righteousness he knew he owed it to her to say something.

"Mr. Castillo will _not_ be put to death," he assured. "Father is recommending him for employment on the mainland. He will have time to transition."

Emily's sobs subsided for only a moment before she redirected her anger to Gordon.

" _None_ of this would've happened if you had just asked me for clarification first! I only kissed him. It was _one_ kiss. Father would've never understood, but _you_ should have!"

There was a clear sense of betrayal in her eyes that made all the guilt Gordon had been repressing crash down on him at once. Worse than anything else, he had failed his little sister. The sense of revenge hadn't been worth it.

"It isn't fair…" she whimpered, tearing away to retreat upstairs to her room. "It isn't fair!"

Lady Hatt grabbed said tea tray and followed her daughter upstairs, apparently hopeful that her efforts in the kitchen would assuage _one_ member of her family.

* * *

"I'm telling you, we made an agreement!" Rosie reiterated, annoyed, as Thomas continued to fiddle with the lock on his cell. "He'll likely be here this evening with the keys, just you wait and see!"

Thomas scoffed and rolled his eyes for the hundredth time.

"Yeah, _sorry_ , but I don't believe that for one second. He had to have been tricking you."

Percy sat as uncomfortable, neutral third party in the cell between them, silent to this point until he felt compelled to suggest, "Thomas, haven't you always said Paxton was a little, uhm...well...not very smart? You would have never accused him of scheming before."

"Well, either way...I'm not relying on Rosie's story to get us out of here with our lives."

Rosie groaned loudly and gripped the bars harder as she leaned into them, all the better to throw her voice at Thomas.

"We wouldn't be in here in the first place if hadn't been for you! You and your big mouth, jumping out and revealing us. Gordon signed those papers regardless, and now we're sitting ducks. _Excuse me_ for making an effort to fix the problem _you_ caused. Maybe I'll tell Paxton to just unlock me and Percy's cells, hmm? Let you figure your own way out since you're so smart."

Thomas glared back at her and launched himself similarly at his own bars to better yell at her. Percy cowered in his middle cell, completely unsure of how to mediate this.

" _You_ didn't have to come along! It's not as if I forced you!"

"I came along because I _like_ you, something you don't seem to notice or care about at all!"

Thomas was confused for a moment, unsure if she was saying what he thought she was saying...a knowing look from Percy (of all usually oblivious people) told him she was _definitely_ saying that.

He didn't really know how to react, having never considered Rosie in that sort of light before...but it was just as well as she was soon back-peddling fast.

"That is, I-...I like you as Percy likes you. We like you as a _friend_! _That's_ why we're here. And-...and you don't seem to notice or care about that at all!"

It was then that the door to the little underground jail opened and in skipped Paxton, dangling a set of keys.

"Look what I've got!" he said in a little sing-song voice, very pleased with himself. "I did it! I got the keys!"

"Very good job, Paxton!" Rosie beamed as if praising a dog. "I knew you could do it!"

Paxton unlocked Rosie's cell, held the door open for her, and then paused.

"Okay, so...now what happens…?"

Rosie smiled knowingly, drew a bobby pin from her hair and wedged it into the lock.

"It's _that_ simple. This way, Diesel 10 will assume we lock-picked our way out! All you have to do is restore the keys to where they were without him noticing they're gone."

"It's a terrible plan," Thomas groaned from where he sat, arms folded, in the corner of his cell. "Diesel 10 won't buy it for a second. And do you really think _he_ can put the keys back without Diesel 10 noticing they were gone? Diesel 10's too clever, much cleverer than you two."

Rosie glared at Thomas again, wondering that he could be so foolish when she and Paxton held all the leverage over him.

"Paxton," she said sweetly. "Would you mind very much unlocking my friend Percy's cell as well? Like me, he was only an accessory to Thomas' foolish plan. Thomas thinks himself very smart, so I'm sure he'll have no problem finding a way out on his own."

Paxton did as she asked, looking as bewildered and hesitant as Percy as he exited.

"Rosie...you can't mean you'd really _leave_ Thomas here…!" Percy protested, but Rosie wasn't listening. He turned to Thomas then to appeal to his sense of reason. "Thomas, come on...can't you just apologize..? Is your pride really _that_ important? You could die…!"

Thomas brooded a moment longer until finally letting out a huge, resigned sigh.

" _Fine_. Rosie, Percy...I'm sorry."

"For _what_?" Rosie pressed.

"For getting you both into this mess. For calling you foolish. For being a total arse. For whatever is it you're expecting me to say."

Rosie groaned, rolled her eyes and finally conceded to asking Paxton to unlock Thomas' cell as well. It wasn't as if she was _actually_ going to leave him there to die. Thomas must have known that on some level.

"You could've done that better," Rosie said through gritted teeth as Thomas emerged from his cell.

"Oh really? I think I did a _great_ job for someone facing a life or death sentencing."

"Uhm...I hate to interrupt…" said a tentative Paxton. "But I'm afraid it's not all happy endings just yet. After Diesel 10 finds you've escaped he'll be looking for you all for certain...at least, until he can secure control of the Northwestern Railway. You'll all need to leave Sodor, hide somewhere far away for awhile! Maybe...for good."

Rosie and Percy exchanged sad looks.

"He's right. We _will_ have to leave...I didn't think about that."

"Leave Sodor? But-...! My mail route…"

Thomas, apathetic to both of these concerns, rushed to Paxton. "Do you know how he's planning to take over the Northwestern? It's something to do with Gordon, isn't it? There's no way he's just going to wait for Sir Topham to be displaced naturally…"

Paxton shook his head and shrugged.

"Sorry, he doesn't bother explaining plans to me and Danny. We just go out and punch who he wants punched...kidnap who he wants kidnapped, that sort of thing. Grunt work."

Thomas began to think this over as Rosie took Paxton's hands in her own and smiled up at him.

"You're better than an awful job like this, Paxton. _However_ did you get roped into a dark underworld like this in the first place?"

Paxton's round cheeks reddened in his flattery, as no one had ever said anything so kind to him before.

"Well, I-...I'm not good at much, you see. Not very smart to boot...but I'm strong! My strength is my strength!"

"You should think about leaving all this behind and applying to the Northwestern," she suggested. "The Railway could always use strong, healthy young men to lift heavy crates and goods. The company has always been very good to me, after all...I'll certainly miss it."

Footsteps were heard somewhere not very far off and that alone sent the four of them into a silent panic.

"Quick!" Paxton whispered, ushering them towards a trap door leading to the outside. They would have to crawl through to get out, but were luckily all of them svelte and young enough to do so. "Out this way! There's woods you can escape through undetected. Hurry, hurry now!"

Thomas and Percy slipped out the trap door without any hesitation or complaint, but Rosie paused to give Paxton a quick kiss of gratitude on his cheek along with a 'Thank you'.

He was more than flustered, but continued to usher her out the door with ever increasing urgency. She left and he closed the trapdoor behind her just as none other than Diesel 10 sauntered into the room with Danny Diesel.

"Where _are_ they?" Diesel 10 demanded to know, his voice little more than a dark hiss.

"I-I don't know, sir…! They-...they must have escaped…!"

Diesel 10 chuckled, knowing, before snapping his fingers and sending Danny Diesel on Paxton in a flurry of fists.

"Danny-!" Paxton cried in between strikes. "D-danny, stop…!" He had thought they were friends.

After a time, once Paxton was beaten black and blue on the floor of the small dungeon, Diesel 10 pressed his foot on the bruiser's throat, making him gasp for air.

"You _stupid_ , disloyal neanderthal," he cursed. "I know very well you stole the keys from me and let them all go. Did you think you'd get away with it? Did you?"

Paxton couldn't answer given the physical trauma he'd just gone through and the fact that Diesel 10 was currently crushing his windpipe...but he did have awareness enough to realize that he'd be killed if he didn't do _something_. Paxton before Rosie would've accepted his fate, feeling a liar didn't deserve much better...Paxton of now _knew_ he deserved better. And so he would fight for it.

He therefore grabbed Diesel 10's foot and twisted his ankle, causing him to topple over on to the floor with a cry of surprise. Paxton then lept to his feet, and as he was thankfully very familiar with Danny's fighting style, was prepared to meet him punch for punch, block for block. As it happened, Paxton was also considerably stronger than Danny.

A few punches, a few blocks and Paxton had Danny's arms twisted behind him.

"You'll regret this, you dribbling moron!" Danny warned, ineffective as Paxton threw him into a cell and locked the door.

Diesel 10, realizing his pet of superior strength had turned on him and thusly defeated his only form of protection, slowly rose to his feet and drew a switchblade he kept on his person for emergencies such as this. He had already begun sneaking up on Paxton, poised like a cobra to strike…

But Paxton was ready, his advantage being that he knew his boss' sneaky tactics well. As soon as Diesel 10 had steadied his shoulder Paxton grabbed his hand and flipped him around, pinning his arms behind him as he had Danny's. He then threw Diesel 10 in the next open cell and locked the door.

"You will _pay_ for this, you gelatinous mass!" Diesel 10 shrieked, far more unhinged than Paxton had ever seen him before. "I will skin you alive, do you hear me? I will _tear_ you limb from limb!" He was all but clawing through his cage now.

Paxton shook his head, grinned and slipped the keys into his pocket.

" _Really_? I expect that will be very difficult from inside a locked cell, but best of luck. Cheerio!"

And off he went through the door and up the stairs, racing to fetch the truck and make an escape of his own.

* * *

Lady Hatt tiptoed into her daughter's bedroom, not wanting to disturb or rouse her in her upset. Seeing Emily lying on her side in tears on the bed made the tea tray seem very inconsequential indeed. No, she suspected Emily would have no taste for it after all.

"Darling…" Lady Hatt said softly, having left the tea tray forgotten on a side table in favor of taking a seat beside her on the bed. "My dear girl...it does pain me to see you like this."

Emily said nothing, but allowed her mother to caress her hair in some attempt to soothe.

"I know, dear...I know how hard it is to live the life we do...particularly for a young woman," Lady Hatt continued. "It may be hard for you to believe but I was once a young woman too...a young woman just as you are now...with ambitions, and hopes...I, too, wanted the world as my oyster. _Alas_ , I'm afraid that is not the life of a member of the nobility. Too much is expected of us for it to be so. I thought you understood that, Emily…? More than I would've expected from a woman your age."

Once again Emily said nothing, but her tears intensified with this mention. Lady Hatt needn't guess why.

"Ah...perhaps you did until you met _him_. Yes...a man can change everything, can't he? Never mind, dear. It _will_ hurt for a time, but you will heal and be all the stronger for it...and then, one very special day, you will meet a very nice man, who-"

" _Victor_ is a nice man," Emily countered in harsh whisper.

"Yes...yes, I'm sure he is…" Lady Hatt conceded for Emily's sake, though she wondered that he really was. She agreed with Bertram that he was likely taking advantage of their status and financial assets. He _had_ to be. "But you must understand...you are a lady of distinction. A relationship with someone of a...different circumstance, well...it just isn't sustainable. It wouldn't, _couldn't_ , last for two who are so different. I realize that's hard to see in the throes of infatuation...but there are things far more important. When the fire of first love burns down to an ember, and it will, you must have _something_ to keep it going! Assets...a man who can keep you in the life you are accustom-"

"A man like father you mean," Emily spat. She sat up and pulled away abruptly from her mother's touch. "Don't you have any idea what kind of man he really is, mother? Are you completely obtuse to the affair he's been pursuing right in front of us? To the woman he's secured in flats, allowed to attend events right beside us-"

" _Yes_ , Emily. For goodness sake. I am not a fool."

Lady Hatt dipped her head when she said this, ashamed as she was to admit the truth out loud. It had always been an elephant in the room the family -her and Bertram included- danced around and ignored and she appreciated this. The affair itself she could tolerate; having her children openly mock and harass her for not doing more to protest it was what she feared more than anything else. She had always thought it'd have been Gordon or James that cornered her about it, not her sweet, understanding Emily.

"And you shouldn't speak of things you know nothing about."

"What is there to know of, mother? He humiliates us everyday, all the while telling us we need to live up to expectation. He does as he pleases with other women, any woman he chooses, and then would willingly send a man I love to his death...simply because he doesn't _suit_! Is that the sort of man I'm expected to marry?"

"No," Lady Hatt answered quickly. It was a question she didn't need to contemplate for any length of time. "No, not at all. I would never wish a man like Bertram on you for anything in the world."

Emily looked to her mother with a sense of awe. It was a brutally honest side of herself Jane Hatt hadn't unleashed in years, and never did she think she'd do so in front of one of her own children.

"How do you stand it…?" Emily asked. "Do you-...do you even love father…?"

"I have carried and raised all four of his children, I have lived with him and been his wife for over thirty years, I say nothing and turn a blind eye when he takes up with another woman. In the end, _that_ is love, my dear. Not big proclamations and promises, not kisses that seem to last forever...but loyalty. Utter devotion."

Emily saddened again and stared down at her lap, at a loss.

"He doesn't deserve it. He hasn't given you anything in return."

Lady Hatt took Emily's hand in her own. "He has given me you and your brothers, the loves of my life. I could ask no more of a man than that."

Emily leaned into her mother's chest and Lady Hatt wrapped an arm understandingly around her shoulder.

"I _am_ sorry, my girl," Lady Hatt said with every bit of sincerity in the world. "If I could make circumstances easier for all of us, I would."

"It's okay, mother. Knowing what I do now of marriage...I don't think I want it anymore. I don't want a love that dies. It's not at all like they say it is."

"Nothing ever is, Emily."

* * *

Though he had taken the sputtering truck for himself and could've gone in any direction he pleased, Paxton hadn't forgotten his three fugitive friends. They, at first, attempted to run from the truck assuming it was Diesel 10 out to get them...that was until Paxton yelled out in reassurance that his boss and Danny were secured down in the basement cells until the morning when the house would be fully staffed and someone would hear their cries...and even then, it'd be hard to get said cells open without the keys, which were currently in Paxton's pocket.

They rode with him back over the bridge into Sodor and Rosie asked if there was any hope of getting help from the local police.

"Afraid not," Paxton said sadly. "Hasn't done much good for anyone in the past...word has it Diesel 10 has them paid off, anyhow."

Rosie faltered again, upset that leaving Sodor would be unavoidable.

"Don't worry!" Paxton assured. "You forget I'm also running from Diesel 10- and _I've_ got a truck! Might as well escape together."

Rosie giggled. "I wonder what my father will think of me running off with a young man!"

Thomas interrupted their back and forth -from his bouncing seat in the back bay, punishment for his earlier cheek- to point out,

"No, we won't have to do any of that! I'll go to Sir Topham Hatt, tell him everything. _He'll_ know what to do."

Paxton, Rosie and Percy had nothing to say to that apart from their moment of silent doubt.

"It's a kind thought to warn him, Thomas…" Percy said after a while. "But does he really have the ability to protect you from Diesel 10? He couldn't protect his own railway from the signal point fire…"

It began to dawn on Thomas, even in his petulant self-righteousness, that Percy was probably right. There were limitations to even Sir Topham Hatt's abilities. Still, informing him of what had happened was the right thing to do and he resolved to do just that the moment they arrived back on Sodor.

"You can do what you like," he said. "But _I'm_ going to do what's right."

The three in the front didn't bother to argue with him, as Thomas had proven himself to be especially stubborn. Percy and Rosie just hoped that it wouldn't result in him getting hurt or worse.

They eventually stopped and stayed the night at Rosie's house, taken in gratefully by her concerned but understanding father, Edward. He was so relieved to see her again unscathed that he could hardly complain about the circumstances in which she'd gone missing in the first place- that lecture would come later.

"I've heard so many stories about you, Mr. Sinclair," Thomas said as he helped himself to the dinner that had been prepared. "One of the oldest and most legendary engine drivers on the railway!"

Edward chuckled and took a puff of his pipe.

"As much as any engine driver can be _legendary_ , I suppose."

"I had so hoped I'd get to learn from you...although...now it looks like that won't happen. I'm going to have to leave Sodor if I want to stay alive...but not without telling Sir Topham Hatt of all this first!"

Edward seemed a bit more than unsure of this plan, having heard the entire story recounted naught but a moment before.

"It's honorable of you," Edward agreed. "But I fear it'll do very little, Thomas. If what you say is true, that Gordon has signed into a legal agreement, then he has sealed the fate of this railway. No amount of warning Sir Topham is going to change whatever is in motion now."

"Well, maybe just-...!"Thomas tried to protest, but Edward, in his overarching wisdom, had a way of bringing him to see reason. "Maybe...maybe just a...letter of warning. Maybe if Sir Topham has some idea of what's coming he can prepare for it."

Edward smiled, solemn and sympathetic, and just gave Thomas a pat on the shoulder. It was reassuring in its own way, even as Thomas knew the word 'hopeless' was being avoided.

"Well, then, Rosie," Edward sighed. "How's about a change of scenery? It would seem I'll be needing to seek employment elsewhere."

Thomas didn't need to reaffirm Edward's certainty on the matter. Things were going to change, drastically, and it would be in all of their interests to relocate before Diesel 10 sunk in his claws. It broke his heart to think about, that he had only gotten to work on the Northwestern very briefly. He had so hoped it would be his home, his career...and yet, then again, perhaps he was lucky to have had the time that he did at all.

"Do you-...do you think the Great Western would take me, Mr. Sinclair?" a very tentative Paxton asked. "Rosie seemed to think I'd do very well lifting crates and that sort of thing...I don't really mind what I'm doing so long as it's an honest wage."

"Oh, no doubt in my mind," Edward assured him, having taken to Paxton very quickly for someone who had once been Diesel 10's lackey. Thomas, Rosie and Percy weren't aware, but it was solely the way Paxton looked at his daughter that earned Edward's immediate trust. "But do be careful, dear boy. I'm sure Diesel 10 will be on a special look out for you, even after the successful acquisition of the Northwestern."

Paxton and Edward then discussed methods and possibilities for hiding while Thomas turned to Percy and asked him what his plans were.

"I-I'm not sure…" Percy said, his voice shaking. He hadn't touched his food as his fear of what would happen to them was so strong it was making him nauseated. "I feel I should...go to my mother and sisters...tell them everything. Maybe try to get them to leave too. I don't want them to be in any danger."

It was hard to not admit guilt when Percy looked so frightened, even for someone as prideful as Thomas.

"I'm sorry, Percy...you should have never come with me."

"Oh, Thomas. Please don't be sorry for anything. It was _my_ decision to accompany you. I...I suppose we all should have thought a bit harder about the consequences, but...leaving Sodor was inevitable. Diesel 10 has the power. He's already won."

Thomas still didn't want to believe that...but what could be done? There were a great many things a small time porter with no real influence could overpower- legalities weren't one of them.

* * *

Thomas wrote three letters when he arrived back at his flat; one to his mother to let her know he'd be coming back home soon and two to Sir Topham Hatt alerting him to his resignation as well the current state of affairs. He _knew_ Gordon wouldn't tell his father about what had happened...and maybe Thomas could concede that Gordon didn't know or refused to acknowledge the dangers. Maybe he _had_ done what he thought was right for his father and the railway. It was a hard thing to admit, certain as he had been that the Controller's eldest son was a villain in his own right.

With a heavy heart Thomas packed up what little he had (all of which could fit in the pack he brought with him), put what he could pay of the agreed rent in an envelope for the landlord (with a promise to make up for it in monthly mailed installments- it was all he could manage) and left under cover of night to deliver the note to Sir Topham Hatt's office directly. He couldn't risk it being delayed by the post, not something so important.

He had expected to find the office, along with the rest of the Railway, empty save for the skeleton crew of porters and loaders here and there that assisted the night trains. Instead, however, he stumbled upon a lit Controller's office with said Controller sitting hard at work at his desk. Thomas didn't know if that was typical for him or not.

"Thomas...?" Sir Topham marveled the moment he saw him, immediately apathetic to his work. "Thomas…! You're-...you're alive, you're safe! What on _earth_ happened? And where are the others? Miss Sinclair, Postman Monday-"

"They're _fine_ , sir," Thomas assured. "We were-...well, it's-...it's not an easy thing to admit. We had been kidnapped, held prisoner."

"Held prisoner?" Sir Topham seemed offended at the very idea that something so barbaric could still go on. "By whom and what the devil for?"

Thomas needn't say the perpetrator's name for Sir Topham Hatt to immediately gather who had done such a thing. The look of realization on his face was indication enough.

"We had...we had gone to his estate, sir. All three of us...we followed as we saw Mr. Gordon Hatt accompany him out of the Gala and we wanted to know what was going on."

Sir Topham's brow furrowed and he set his jaw. He didn't seem at all surprised even as he was furious; Gordon's close involvement with Diesel 10 was exactly as he suspected.

Thomas continued, "We managed to see him, um...sign some papers...an agreement with Diesel 10 to form a partnership. We suspect he'd been duped. I _tried_ to stop him, sir, I really did-"

"Sign-...?! Oh my dear boy, you _cannot_ be serious...please tell me there was some mistake."

Part of Thomas found himself wanting to lie, if only to calm Sir Topham for a moment from the frantic look that had now blossomed on his usually so confident face. _Still_ , he could not. At this point his employer deserved to know the truth, no matter how difficult and ugly it was.

"I'm sorry, sir…"

Sir Topham collapsed back in his desk chair, now shocked to his core. Thomas might as well have come in and shot him in the chest for how lost and terrified and pained he seemed to be...indeed, that might have been the merciful thing to have done.

"Then I am ruined…" Sir Topham gasped.

"Sir, are you-...are you sure? Is it that final? Perhaps it's not as bad as we-"

"No. No, this was the work of Diesel 10. This is no trifling matter." Sir Topham pulled himself together as much as he was able, turning his urgency to Thomas. "You must leave, dear boy. You must leave as soon as you are able."

Given the circumstances, Thomas would excuse Sir Topham for not noticing that he already had all of his worldly belongings slung over his shoulder as he had the day he'd arrived on the island.

"I...I plan to, sir. I've come to deliver my notice. Perhaps-...perhaps you should leave too, then?"

Sir Topham shook his head.

"No. Absolutely not. It's my job to do what I can to rectify this."

"And if you can't, sir…?"

"A good Captain goes down with his ship, Thomas."

Had it been a not-so-grave situation Thomas would've humorously pointed out that no ships were involved in this and maybe the same rules didn't apply...but he knew Sir Topham better than to think that would work. He admired him for it all the more.

"It's been an honor to work with you, sir," Thomas said. "Even for this brief time. I wish it might've lasted longer."

Sir Topham smiled, as much as he was able. "As do I. It would've been a privilege to watch you grow in your abilities. I had been looking forward to seeing you on one of those engines. Ah, well...that will be the honor of the next Controller fortunate enough to have you."

Thomas didn't have the heart to admit that he wasn't planning on going back into the railway business. As much as he might have loved it, it wouldn't have been the same on anything other than the Northwestern.

"Thank you, sir. Good luck."

"Yes...and to you, Thomas. I believe we could all do with some."

Thomas left then, heading for the docks where he'd meet his ship first thing in the early morning. He gave one last look to the palatial Knapford Station and felt his heart break, knowing he'd never see it again.

* * *

The sun had just begun to rise when Thomas was jarred awake by a dock worker who had discovered him sleeping in between boxes.

"Oy, kid. What do you think this is? A boarding house? Beat it!"

He might have said something cheeky in reply if he hadn't been so tired, if the events from the past few days hadn't jarred the lightheartedness out of him. He still hadn't completely processed the unavoidable loss of his job and life on the island, as it had been as sudden as someone pulling the rug out from under his feet. He'd come to terms eventually, perhaps when he was back at home once again feeding the chickens as he had his whole life. He'd pause and realize that, yes, it had been a dream after all- or as good as.

For now, he was numb.

He carried himself and his pack of belongings obediently out of the way to wait for the ship to board. The ship itself was a moderately sized cargo vessel, the only mode of transport he could afford back to the mainland through doing odd jobs for the crew. It wouldn't be enjoyable, considering especially that he hadn't slept well the night before, but it was his only option.

Thomas felt the presence of someone beside him and so he turned to look, purely out of curiosity.

"Mr. Castillo...?" he said, unsure of why the Chief Engineer was standing here with what looked to be all his worldly belongings in a pack or two as well. "What are _you_ doing here? Have you heard about Diesel 10 too?"

Victor seemed confused.

"Good morning, Mr. Huntington...and _no_ , I haven't. I just-... I'm accepting a job with the Great Western Railway on the mainland."

Thomas didn't think that was the whole story, given the uncertainty in Victor's voice and the odd fact that he wasn't taking a train instead.

"Not the fastest mode of transport to the mainland..." Thomas said. "Would've thought _you_ of all people would be on a train."

"Well. A change of pace can be nice, can't it? Besides, I seem to be in good company."

Thomas laughed, despite it all. Fair enough, he wouldn't push the issue. At least not for now.

A man who appeared to be the equivalent of the Captain appeared as soon the gangplank was lowered. He waved to and then welcomed Victor aboard warmly, a further insight into why he might have chosen this route of transport rather than something more efficient. Said Captain's attentions to Thomas, however, were less than cordial.

"Your work begins now, boy. Deck needs swabbing, get to it."

"Sir, I don't-...I don't know how or where-"

"His Majesty was expecting a _grand tour_?"

"Don't worry, Thomas," Victor said, sympathetic to both concerns. "I'll be glad to get you familiar with the ship."

This he did, showing him where everything was, teaching him how tasks were done even though Thomas would only be given the very menial and simple. It was a wonder to him that Victor would know so much, but even more so that he would be so generous. It made him comfortable with Victor in a way he hadn't been before due to lack of time spent around each other, so much so that by noon, after the ship was well underway, Thomas finally felt comfortable asking him the question he'd been avoiding.

"Victor...why did you _really_ leave the North Western?"

Victor sighed and looked at the ever stirring seas and sky. "A storm's blowing up...I hope we're able to steer clear."

" _Victor_ …! Come on. Would it really matter now if you told me?"

"Shouldn't you be hard at work?"

"They gave me a midday break, but it won't last long! So...come on, _please_?"

After a lengthy pause and what appeared to be some mental back and forth, Victor finally relented with an explanation of everything that happened that led to his departing the island.

"You mustn't take it as a personal slight that I was hesitant to reveal this. I'm very ashamed of myself."

"But, you...you loved Miss Hatt, didn't you?"

"I _love_ her...and so I should've had better self control. Sir Topham Hatt had every right to send me away. There was no future. There is nothing I could offer her that would be comparable to the life she's known."

Thomas was rather ignorant where situations like this were concerned. There hadn't really been time or opportunity before for him to experience love, not in a close-knit village where every girl felt like a sister, not even on Sodor where he was too busy and too awed by the island and railway to think of such things. Even so, the need to try and advise his newfound friend was impossible to ignore.

"Well...maybe she doesn't _want_ the life she's known," Thomas suggested. "Some of us long for something other than what's been handed to us. That's gotta count for something, right?"

Victor chuckled. "Yes. And it does...but she is a woman of status and there are expectations set for her that she cannot escape any easier than you or I could understand them. You mustn't envy people like the Hatts, Thomas. Their wealth can appear enticing, but it's all little more than a gilded cage."

Thomas wasn't sure he understood, really...but there was no time to dwell on that. The brewing storm that Victor had noticed not long before had increased in ferocity and the ship was swaying and dipping on the choppy waves.

"You should see to your duties, Thomas," Victor suggested. "The crew will need your assistance to get through this smoothly."

Thomas nodded and turned to do just that...but as soon as he was out of Victor's sight he was instead seized by impossibly strong hands, one of which covered his mouth so completely that no sound he made could escape. He tried to kick and writhe, but it had little effect on whatever huge brute had gotten hold of him.

From where he was he could see the same happen to Victor; seized by a brick of a man that would've until now appeared to be a ship worker. The man tied Victor's arms and feet together tightly with rope, despite his struggling, covered his head in tied sack cloth, and then tossed him overboard just as easily as he had captured him.

Thomas tried to scream, to bite, to do _something_ that would release him from his capture and save Victor, but it was then that whoever got hold of him knocked him hard on the head and everything went black.


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Honestly, I do not have a lot to say about this one. We're coasting quickly towards the main climax now, hopefully this has all been worth it in the end LOL. S/o to my best reviewer and, oddly, the villain of this piece, Diesel 10. Much love for your kind and in depth words!

* * *

Gordon stormed into the police station with all the ferocity of a angry rhino, a copy of the Sodor Times clenched tightly in his fist. He proceeded to slam it on the front desk so the headline was visible; **NORTHWESTERN RAILWAY CONTROLLER CHARGED WITH MURDER OF EMPLOYEE**

" _This_ is an outrage," he informed the unwitting policeman at the desk. "I will speak with your Chief of Police at once."

"Do you have a meeting arranged with him, Mr. Hatt?"

Gordon balked at the sheer audacity of the question.

" _Of course_ I don't have a meeting arranged! My father was only just arrested this morning! You _do_ realize who he is, don't you? Sir Topham Hatt, husband of Lady Jane Hatt, brother-in-law of the Earl of Sodor! _I_ am Sir Robert Norramby's nephew, and I won't be treated this way!"

The Chief of Police had just so happened to emerge from his office then. His attempt to go the other direction unnoticed, failed. Gordon sensed him the moment he made himself known.

"Sir!" Gordon called out. "Sir, we must have words this instant!"

The Chief sighed, as if having prepared himself for this very conversation from the moment Sir Topham Hatt had been carried away in irons.

"Mr. Hatt, I realize this arrest must come at a very great shock to your family-"

"My father had nothing to do with Mr. Castillo's murder. _Nothing_ at all!"

"I think you'll find that my detectives very much disagree with you, Mr. Hatt. Sad to say, but the evidence all points to your father."

" _What_ evidence?" Gordon demanded to know. "On what baseless assumption have you condemned an innocent man?"

The Chief was becoming increasingly annoyed with Gordon's attitude and chose, in that moment, to stop extending sympathy.

"Isn't it true, Mr. Hatt, that your father had developed a personal disdain for Mr. Castillo due to his romantic relations with your sister, Emily?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Is it or is not true that he was willing to condemn Mr. Castillo to death by sending him back to his country?"

"Well...I-"

"Mr. Hatt. The fact of the matter is, your father commissioned Mr. Thomas Huntington to have Mr. Castillo killed on the boat to the mainland. I'm confident the court will agree."

The Chief of Police then walked the opposite direction, uninterested in continuing the conversation beyond that point. Gordon was left to fume in place, perhaps hoping that by charging in and demanding results he would've gotten them, made them all realize this was a horrible mistake and be then allowed to leave with his father.

As none of the above had come to pass, Gordon resolved to storm out the way he had come in with some futile hope of keeping his dignity intact.

"This isn't over! I _will_ see justice served!" he called out from the street, not unlike a madman.

Said hope of keeping his dignity flew out the window the moment he looked ahead to see Caitlin O'Leary staring at him from just a few steps up the pavement. He could hardly care about his appearance now. He could hardly care about anything as he ran towards her.

"Caitlin…!" he called, disbelieving. He had somehow convinced himself she must have already left Sodor.

She looked as if she _wanted_ to leave, walk quickly in the opposite direction...but something rooted her to the spot long enough for Gordon to approach her.

"Caitlin...I-...I thought you had plans to leave…?"

She avoided eye contact and sighed. It occurred to him that this was, perhaps, not what she had been hoping to hear from him after a period of uninterrupted silence.

"I do. _We_ do, Connor and I. We were delayed by his release from hospital."

Left unsaid was the true reason why she had stayed behind in Sodor a few days longer than necessary. She hoped Gordon would figure it out.

"Oh, I see...well, I-…"

"I heard the news about your father. _I'm sorry_. This must be very difficult for your family."

"You-..." Gordon blinked. "You don't believe he _did it_ , do you? He's been framed! My father isn't capable of such a thing, never could be!"

Caitlin looked up to Gordon with sad eyes.

"I don't know your father well enough to say one way or the other. For that matter...I'm not entirely certain I ever knew _you_."

She turned to really walk away now, resolved that what she had been hoping to hear was not going to be said.

"Caitlin…!" Gordon called after her, again...and again, as it hadn't made her stop and turn around as he had intended. "Caitlin, please…!"

When she kept walking, this time at a faster pace, and Gordon started to sincerely fear that she might just walk out of his life forever he called,

"Caitlin, don't-...! I _love_ you!"

This caused not only Caitlin, but everyone else on the pavement, to stop and stare at the both of them. Gordon couldn't find it in himself to mind them, he cared only that she had stopped and that the smallest smile was visible at the corner of her mouth.

"Please…" he said again, coming to her now and taking her hands in his. " _Please_ don't leave…"

For the briefest of moments she seemed keen to agree to his pleas...but practicality intervened, maybe the memory of what he had said at the Gala, maybe the fact that his father had been charged with murder and he could be implicated.

"Oh, Gordon…" she cradled his cheek in her gloved hand. "I _wish_ I could believe that...more than anything."

And then she ripped herself away from him and all but flew down the pavement, away from him, very likely for good.

Gordon stood in a stupor as movement resumed around him. His hands felt empty, incomplete without hers.

* * *

Millie stood at the entrance to the front balcony, cradling the Sodor Times newspaper against her chest as if it were her child, watching Emily as she sat, ignored her tea and stared off at the French countryside.

Sir Robert, who had happened to be passing by at that very moment, noticed his daughter in her private moment of distress. He touched her shoulder which made her almost jump a foot off the ground.

"Papa! What is _wrong_ with you?" she scolded in a terse whisper. Sir Robert chuckled under his breath.

"You always were a jumpy one, Millie...though I suppose you have good reason to be today."

He frowned as he remembered the news, every bit of it dreadful. Soon, they would have to return to Sodor and see if it couldn't be sorted with his intervention. Emily would _have_ to know.

"This can't go on, dearest," he reminded Millie. "She _must_ be informed."

"She is already so miserable...there was a reason she came to the Perigord Noir with us. Could she not have another day? Ignorance _is_ bliss, as they say…"

Sir Robert smiled sympathetically, even as he knew he could not bend to his daughter's will.

"Come along, Millie. We will tell her together."

Mille sighed in reluctance and followed alongside her father as they moved to the balcony, to Emily's side. She had been so caught in her reverie that it took her a moment to notice that her Uncle and cousin had joined her in other chairs around the balcony table.

"Oh...good afternoon," she greeted them, with as much of a smile as she could manage. Their attempt to conceal their knowing dread did very little, as Emily's smile faded and she asked, "...what? What is it?"

"Emily, dear," said Sir Robert with a heavy sigh. "There is very little use in keeping this from you."

He handed the newspaper over the table and Emily regarded it with confusion.

She took it from him, unfolded the front page and Millie turned away so as to not see how her cousin would take the news. It took Emily a moment to process as she stared blankly at those big, bold words...then with urgency as she scanned the story for further insight...then horror when she saw the named victim.

"No…! No, this can't be true, there has to be some mistake...!"

What could Sir Robert do but give her a sympathetic look, a sincere wish in his eyes that he could take this all away?

"We'll all be heading back to the island in hopes of getting this sorted-" he attempted.

"But you _can't_ sort out what's happened to Victor. Not if this is true."

Emily threw the newspaper back on the table and retreated quickly to her guestroom. Millie made to get up and follow her but Sir Robert stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"She needs time. There is nothing you can say that would give her comfort now."

Millie grabbed the newspaper again and read over the front page story, eager to confirm what she thought she had read earlier.

"Perhaps there is. Papa...it says they've yet to recover the body. They have only witness accounts of two men on the ship to corroborate what happened!"

Sir Robert looked over the story as well, affirming that Millie was _right_.

"How strange...I know with a certainty that Diesel 10 is behind this...but of what use would there be for him in keeping Mr. Castillo alive?"

"Is it...possible he didn't intend to?"

As far-fetched and overly optimistic as it seemed, Sir Robert couldn't eliminate the possibility that Victor may have somehow survived what had happened to him. It was, after all, very strange that they hadn't recovered a body by this point.

"I think it's vital that we get back to Sodor as soon as possible," he decided, tucking the newspaper into his coat pocket. "Pack your things, dearest, we'll be underway by tonight!"

* * *

Gordon took one of the family cars -on his own, without a chauffeur- and floored it across the island and over the bridge into the mainland. Keenly, he remembered the way to Diesel 10's estate, even if his driving skills (for lack of doing so often) left much to be desired. It didn't matter. This was serious, an _emergency_ , and if the law wasn't going to have the decency to help him he was left with no choice but to appeal to the next best thing. Diesel 10 may not have been the most savory, but he had power, he had influence, he could make things happen.

It was their only hope.

He screeched onto the main drive, nearly turning the vehicle over in his sharp turn, and left it as is to go charging into the estate like a human battering ram. It was just his luck that the man who answered the door was much smaller and frail than he, that he could shoulder past without issue.

"Where is he?" Gordon demanded to know. "Where is the master of the house? I need to speak with him urgently. I'm Gordon Hatt, I'm his _business partner_!"

Fortunate, too, that his voice was the big and booming sound that it was, that very little could permeate it, including asinine questions from a cowering doorman.

"Yes, sir-" the doorman agreed, moving to go request him...but Diesel 10 had beat them both to the punch.

"Ah, Mr. Hatt. I had the _strangest_ feeling we might be seeing each other today."

Diesel 10 was missing one of his usual lackeys...the fatter one- Paxton, was it? But Danny remained with a black eye and several new bruises, along with what appeared to be a pair of twin giants. No, they were men...just very large men with jagged, unforgiving faces. It seemed Diesel 10's entourage of bruisers was like a hydra; one head cut off, two more sprout in place.

"You have to help me," Gordon pleaded, his anger and defense now turned to pure desperation. "It's my father. I know he stands contrary to your desires, but he's in a terrible muddle. He's been framed for _murder._ There is very little in his defense, though I know he didn't do this. He _couldn't_ have. My Uncle won't return from holiday for some time now...I fear the worst. Please. You can make things happen. Please...help me…!"

Diesel 10 smirked in a way that was less than encouraging and took a long drag of his cigar.

"Oh, but I already have," he said after a time, blowing all the smoke into Gordon's face. "I'm shocked _you_ of all people don't recognize my handiwork when you see it."

Gordon balked, unwilling to process what the rational part of his mind knew he was hearing.

"I…y-you…? You did this…? You framed my father…! You killed an innocent man!"

"Innocent? Oh, _hardly_ ," Diesel 10 scoffed. "So your fist would agree, I'm sure."

Gordon clenched his hands and stared down at the floor in angered guilt.

"That-...that was a mistake. I-I shouldn't have-"

"Oh, you _bore_ me, Gordon. Really now. I go and do something thoughtful, putting your father behind bars so that you and I can proceed with business undeterred...and _this_ is how you thank me?"

" _Thank_ you…?" Gordon growled, about ready to lunge forward and wring his business partner's neck. "Oh, there is a great many things I would have done to you, sir-...!"

None of which he'd be able to do, however, as it was then that the two twin giants took him firmly by the arms.

Diesel 10 clicked his tongue in reproach.

" _Such_ a disappointment. True, I was going to have you disposed of eventually one way or another...but I had hoped it wouldn't be so soon. There was so much we could've have done, you and I! Ah well."

Gordon wasn't about to go without a fight, however, futile as it might have been. He kicked and writhed against the twin giants with all his might, shouted unspeakable, unrepeatable things at the man he _should_ have known would do this.

"What are you dawdling for?" Diesel 10 snapped at the twin giants. "Get him out of my sight. _I_ have a railway to claim."

Gordon was dragged down the hallway then, to somewhere dark. The last he saw was Diesel 10's confident stride out the door, taking every last hope for the Hatt family with him.

* * *

"Why are you working so quickly?" Connor felt compelled to ask. His sister's unusual pace as she packed up their belongings was far more interesting than the view outside their flat. There wasn't much of a choice for him, in any case, what with him being stuck in his wheelchair for the foreseeable future. "Is there a war on that I wasn't aware of?"

"No, I just-..." Caitlin sighed. "We have to catch our train is all. Dublin awaits."

Connor laughed bitterly. "Not much point to rushing around now, is there? We're finished. It's done."

Only this made Caitlin stop, turn to look at her brother with sad, hopeless eyes. She made to tell him not to talk like that, still convinced that all would work out in the end, but he wouldn't have it.

"Oh, don't say it. Don't you dare. And don't _look_ at me like that! I won't be pitied!"

"So you would have us stay _here_ , then? On Sodor?" she challenged. _Now_ she was getting a bit irritated, he could tell, one of the rare occasions she ever did.

" _That_ was your idea," he felt compelled to remind her. "And we both know why."

"Yes, well." Without a better explanation she simply said, "I've changed my mind."

With that, she returned to her frantic pace and Connor knew he'd be better off gazing blankly out the window than pushing the issue...but either out of sheer boredom or a renewed sense of carpe diem following his accident, he couldn't be satisfied with that.

"You know as well as I do that if you don't make an attempt to sort things out with him, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

She didn't look back at him, though the crack in her voice was obvious.

"What is there to sort out? I got-...I got carried away with myself. With the whole thing. It was foolish."

"All this because he defended his sister!" Connor wheeled himself closer. She was trying her hardest to ignore him and if she thought his inability to walk would get in the way of him challenging that, she was sorely mistaken. "You know I'd do the same for you! I very nearly did! Gordon Hatt isn't a close personal favorite of mine by any means...but he is a good man."

Caitlin angrily sniffed back the tears she must have been fighting for days.

"You care for each other," Connor continued. "And I suspect now, more than ever before, he needs a friend. He needs _you_ , Caitlin."

Caitlin slammed her fists down on the unruly pile of clothes she had been haphazardly stuffing in the suitcase. It was a victory, Connor knew this, but hard to relish when his sister and closest friend was crying as hard as she was now. He took her hand in his own.

"This is all a big misunderstanding. Go to him. Give him a chance to swallow his pride. It won't be easy for him, I'm sure, nor will it be for you...but far better that you do this than live with regret. I won't allow it."

Her aggression dissipated without much more of a fuss. She was never one to be too stubborn, she listened to reason when it was provided. Connor could accept that he wasn't right about a lot of things, but he _was_ right about this. Caitlin accepted this truth with a nod and a wipe of her tears.

"Yes...yes, you're right. I'm sorry. Look at me. I'm absolutely horrid! He told me he loved me and I left him standing alone on the pavement."

Connor's eyes widened in shock and he wasted very little time before grabbing her coat, hat and gloves and throwing them at her.

"He told you he-...! You silly girl, go to him! Go to him now!"

She laughed, despite herself, the first time he'd seen her do so in days.

"Yes! Yes, you're right! I _am_ silly."

Caitlin leaned down and hugged Connor for as long as her eagerness to return to Gordon would allow, kissed him on the cheek, and then all but skipped out the door with her coat still unbuttoned.

"Go, go!" he urged, chasing her out with his wheelchair.

* * *

Rosie and Edward stood at their Knapford platform like attendants at a funeral, staring over a casket (Paxton having escorted them for safety purposes). It wasn't happy tidings that brought them here, after all, but a fear for their lives and the future of the island they had once called home. How had everything unraveled so quickly? Rosie wondered as much when she read the headlines this morning as per Mr. Castillo's fate and Thomas' involvement. She _knew_ it wasn't true, it _couldn't_ have been...so could she truly, in good conscience, leave her friend to fend for himself?

Her father was stern on the fact that she could and she must. There was nothing they could do, after all. Diesel 10 had won.

So immersed in their collective melancholy, they almost failed to notice horse rider Caitlin O'Leary pacing frantically around the offices nearby- but let it never be said the Sinclairs neglected to help a soul in need.

"Miss O'Leary?" Rosie called, tentative.

"Are you quite well, Miss?" Edward added.

Caitlin smiled in relief and gratitude and came to them with a simple reply, "I've been looking _everywhere_ for Gord-...Mr. Hatt. Mr. _Gordon_ Hatt. I thought for certain I'd find him at work where he so often is, but...I seem to have been mistaken. But you-...you both work for the railway and yet, it seems you have plans to leave…?"

The three of them exchanged looks of regret before explaining the situation in full, as concisely as they could.

"So, you see, Miss...it's Mr. Hatt's doing that we're standing here now," Rosie said.

But Paxton quickly amended, "Though not intentional! I was there, Miss O'Leary. Mr. Hatt meant to do what was best. He was tricked, bamboozled! _This_ is Diesel 10's doing."

"I, suppose…" Edward said, thoughtful. "Given all that has happened...is it possible he might have gone to confront Diesel 10 on his deception?"

Paxton's eyes went wide. "If that were true, I fear what Diesel 10 might have done…!"

Caitlin's worry increased ten-fold and she clutched to Paxton's arm in desperation.

"You must have _some_ idea of where Gordon has gone. Please…! Please, tell me. If he is in danger I _must_ help him."

Edward nodded in agreement and patted Paxton's arm to encourage him forward.

"You must accompany her, Paxton," he said. "The police will be of no help in this matter...and, perhaps, if we can free Gordon we can sort out some solution to this nightmare. If Diesel 10 has detained him that must be because it is to his benefit to do so."

Paxton was conflicted, not wanting to leave Rosie and her father...and perhaps a bit hesitant to return to the very person that wished him dead (and could make it happen). But he had a truck and he knew the way to the estate and if there was yet hope of defeating Diesel 10, this was the only method available to them.

His only hope was that they wouldn't be too late- but he didn't say as much out loud for fear of upsetting Caitlin.

"Yes...yes okay," Paxton agreed. "I'll take you to the estate, Miss O'Leary. We must leave right away!"

"Good luck!" Rosie said- mostly to Paxton.

There was time only for a quick smile and a nod of the head in reply.

* * *

"Seems Diesel 10 has left…that's a mercy," Paxton said, having parked the truck some distance away from the estate. He and Caitlin had resorted to walking the rest of the way- through the brambles and thorns of the woods, no less. He had been apologetic for the inconvenience, but either due to her own desperation or a lack of care for that sort of thing she didn't seem to mind at all.

"Our best bet is to sneak in through one of the hidden entrances...if I were to guess, and, _mind you_ I'm not very good at that sort of thing...I'd say Gordon's being kept in the cells."

Caitlin inhaled sharply at that, something close to a gasp, but seemed even more intent on getting to Gordon with this in mind.

"I wish I hadn't been so cruel to him," she said as Paxton helped her down a treacherous bit of ground. "I assumed the worst of his actions. I gave him no chance to explain himself."

"I think Gordon Hatt has that effect on many," Paxton said with a bit of a chuckle. "Gruff as he can be, it's hard to believe he's not-...you know, bad. Not for me though. I know better. It's the really nice ones you have to watch out for. Diesel 10 is as charming as anything when he wants to be, when he wants to get something."

" _I_ should've known better," Caitlin lamented, her voice breaking. "He must feel so alone…"

"Well...all the more reason to get to him as quickly as possible, then."

Paxton ushered them both around to the secret entrance he had shown Thomas, Rosie and Percy not long ago with a renewed sense of urgency.

"I wager you're slim enough to slip through...not me though. I'll wait on the other side and keep an eye out."

"Maybe knock twice if you see anything suspicious?" Caitlin suggested. "And I do believe Gordon will have difficulty fitting through here as well...where shall we exit?"

Paxton thought a moment before suggesting the back of the kitchen, due to low staff volume. It would have to do.

* * *

Even with his wrists cuffed and a jail cell locked around him, Gordon Hatt wouldn't be kept sitting about uselessly, hoping for a miracle. Every few minutes -with a pause every so often to gather his strength- he would rush at the cell door with all his might and try to break it open with the force of his shoulder. He was aware of the injury he risked in doing this, but he was also aware of his own size and strength and knew to use it to his advantage. Time was not on his side and if he was going to thwart whatever Diesel 10 had in mind for the future of the railway, he _had_ to find a way out.

As far as he was concerned, this was his only real option.

He tried again, getting a running start and really bashing into the thing with an unprecedented amount of force. It didn't do anything to shake the cell door loose, but it did make him cry out in pain.

"You're going to shatter your arm if you keep that up!"

He all but jumped at the voice. He hadn't expected to hear _that_ voice again for the rest of his days- however few of them there might be left.

"Caitlin…? What are-...? How did-...?"

Gordon didn't often find himself at a loss for words, but there was little he could say that would do this moment justice.

She flew over to his cell. He thought his heart might burst in his chest.

"Well...my intention was to apologize...but now, it seems, I'll be rescuing you as well!"

"How on earth do you plan to-"

Caitlin revealed the keys given to her with a proud smirk. "I had the help of a delightful former henchman!"

The fat one- _Paxton_! Yes, that's where he had gone. It was no small thing to defect from Diesel 10, even more so to conspire against him. Indeed, Gordon had sorely underestimated the pudgy henchman that seemed no cleverer than a broom handle.

It was true that time was scarce, but when Caitlin freed him from his cell and unlocked his shackles, he could do nothing other than take her in his arms.

"I've been an almighty fool," he admitted as he caressed her hair. " _I_ am the cause of this chaos- all of it."

"If _you_ have been a fool then so have I. And yet...I _refuse_ to believe it is too late. This-...this can all still be set right."

Gordon couldn't see how, not immediately, but Caitlin made him believe it was possible. Somehow. It _had_ to be.

"Paxton instructed me to lead us through the back passage," Caitlin advised. "From there, he can transport us in his truck"

Gordon hadn't a clue _where_ he should ask to be transported, but he hoped that between himself, Caitlin and Paxton some resolution could be reached.

"Then we haven't time to waste," he said, taking her hand in his own and leading the way out of the basement prison.

* * *

Emily, Millie and Sir Robert arrived at the Hatt estate as the sun was going down- seemingly, on the day and the North Western in kind. Emily had been preparing herself to meet her distraught mother, pushing aside her own feelings of grief and shock at the news of Victor's death to best coax someone who would need comfort more than she.

James and Stephen were already present; Stephen, holding and comforting his Aunt to the best of his ability and James, standing about awkwardly with a need to do _something_ and no clue how to go about doing it.

"Jane, we came as soon as we could…"

"Tata Jane…!" Millie rushed to her side, the opposite of Stephen and took her hand. "Je suis de tout coeur avec toi…!"

Lady Jane could only look at Emily, however, some small amount of her burden lifted at seeing another of her children safe. Speaking of…

"Mother, where is Gordon?"

Lady Jane shook her head and blinked away fresh tears.

"I do not know, my dear. They tell me he's in hiding so as not to be implicated with your father. I don't believe it. I don't believe a _word_ of it. He was entangled with that horrible man, that...that Diesel man. I fear...I fear something terrible has happened…!"

"It's much worse than that," Stephen added when Lady Jane no longer had the strength to speak through her sobs. "Diesel 10 has assumed all control of the railway...there is to be a celebration tomorrow to mark the change of management, during which...he will be scrapping the entire steam engine fleet."

Emily's eyes widened and she felt her crushing sadness now transform into a burning anger.

"No…! No he can't-...! He musn't-...! Those aren't _his_ to scrap!"

She wasn't answered in this statement, but the unspoken reminder that they were, in fact, his to scrap by all legal rights hung thick in the air like a fog.

Such things hadn't deterred Emily before and they certainly wouldn't now.

"I _won't_ let this happen," she decided. "There has to be a way to stop him...there has to be something!"

Robert and Millie were silent a moment as they exchanged knowing glances, debating whether or not it was time to share their knowledge.

"Emily, you _should_ know of our suspicions," Sir Robert finally said. "Victor's body has yet to be found- unusual, given the short time between his supposed death and the search. We don't mean to give false hope, and yet...if he still lives...well. That would unravel everything, certainly."

Emily's heart leapt in her throat at the notion, even as she knew it was a dangerous thing to let herself believe.

"If we could only _find_ Gordon…!" James lamented. "The railway is Diesel 10's on sufferance only. It still belongs to the Hatt family first and foremost!"

"All the more reason he might-...what if he's-...?" Lady Jane whimpered, unable to verbalize her fear.

"No...no, mother, you mustn't think such things." Emily ran to kneel at her mother's feet, surprising herself with her own optimism. "If it were to Diesel 10's advantage to harm Gordon he would've done so...and made sure everyone knew. No...I feel confident that Gordon is alive. What's more...I feel confident we can set this all right."

With everyone's eyes on her in confusion, at a loss as to how she planned to manage such a thing, Emily should have perhaps felt self-conscious...and yet, she did not.

"I-...I don't know how, yet...but I'll figure out something. We _all_ will. Father would not have wanted to appoint me as Controller someday in vain."

For the first time, everyone now looked to Emily as they usually did to her father; with a sense of respect, comfort. She wondered if he, too, spoke with such confidence while feeling so uncertain of his promises.

Perhaps that was the essence of being a good leader.


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Second to last chapter, y'all. Appreciate all of you that have read this far! This is more or less where the final climax happens, the last chapter will be wrap up/epilogue stuff. I'm kind of worried this final pay off fizzles a bit, but eh, maybe not. I'm nothing if not my own worst critic.

* * *

"Ah, it's a _glorious morning_ , is it not, Daniel? A day made to order for my opening celebration."

Diesel 10 stood just outside the office at Knapford station, sipping pleasantly on his breakfast tea and watching as his diesel fleet began to swarm the island in lieu of the former steam engines. Danny didn't know _how_ he was going to break the news and shatter his boss' moment of tranquility (when Diesel 10 was unbothered, everyone could rest easy) but shatter he must.

Sooner, rather than later.

"Y-yes, sir, but you should know-"

" _Two_ railways under my belt now, Daniel. Tis but a trifle in the big scheme of things, but soon- very soon! Diesel will conquer all. It is the way of the future and the wise will bend to it. The age of _steam_ draws to an end- today, here and now."

"Yes, sir...y-yes, of course, but-"

"Do you smell it in the air, Daniel? Exhaust. Oil. A beautiful thing."

"Yes, sir, but-"

"Oh _what_?" Diesel 10 spat, slamming his delicate tea cup down to the plate with a hard clink. Danny swallowed thickly. "Can I not savor my victory without your constant babbling?"

"Sir! I-it's Gordon Hatt, sir. It would seem he's-...he's _escaped_."

Diesel 10 dropped the cup and saucer to the concrete with a hair raising shatter, a sound that made everyone present jump in surprise. It wasn't particularly difficult to be nervous and on edge when Diesel 10 was nearby, after all.

"He... _what_?" Diesel 10 snarled, though it was abundantly clear he had heard and understood what had been revealed to him.

Danny threw his hands up in his ignorance. "I don't know how, sir! I only heard from the staff, sir, blame them!"

" _I_ know how. Who else, but the fat louse? He must be even more of a fool than I thought. Had he any sense at all, he would've _left_ this island and never looked back. As it is…" Diesel 10 turned to glare at Danny, as if by doing so would ensure his point made, and whispered out in a hiss, "I want them both _dead_ by the end of the day, do you hear me? Gordon Hatt _and_ Paxton. I tire of this nonsense and I will have _nothing_ stand in my way."

Danny faltered at this and when he neglected to reply fast enough, Diesel 10 barked warningly,

"Is that _understood_? Or is there some other, more effective method of beating a point through that hollow skull of yours?"

"N-no, sir, I understand, I just...how shall we have them...taken care of…?"

"What do you suppose that matters to me, so long as the deed is done? Shoot them, skin them alive, throw them off a cliff...just know this, Daniel. If they are not dead by day's end, _you_ will be."

* * *

Emily, James and Lady Hatt walked as if they were headed to their own execution from the family car to the opening celebration...which was, fittingly, taking place in the scrapyard. No amount of decoration, music from the string quartet or hors d'oeuvres could distract from the perverse nature of the whole thing.

"I don't think bringing mother was the best choice…" James scoffed to Emily, as if she'd had any say in that at all.

Emily snarled back, "If it'd been solely up to me she wouldn't have. She _insisted_."

No matter how many times this had been re-established, James continued to treat their mother's presence like Emily's masterminding, as if anyone could contend with Lady Jane's stubborn and protective nature when it came to her children.

Emily still had no idea what she was going to do to stop this and having her mother as a spectator did nothing to make this process easier. Little did she know, her father would be joining them in shackles.

"Oh, Bertram…!" her mother exclaimed, running over to where he was being kept guard by police. They blocked her from reaching out to him. Emily scoffed in utter disgust, realizing that she might have guessed Diesel 10 would make Sir Topham watch this for his own pleasure. "That's my husband! He owns this railway! He did nothing wrong!"

James had the good sense to take hold of his mother without Emily's prompting, before she could lash out in a way that landed her in a similar position. She continued to reach out to him as James led her away, sobbing out promises that she would find a way to fix this. Their father looked after her, longingly and apologetic.

"Mama, you _must_ get a hold of yourself," Emily scolded in a soft whisper. "If we are to formulate a plan, we have to keep a low profile. Remember- Millie, Stephen and Uncle Robert are investigating a legal way out of this as we speak. We-...we simply must wait until they figure something out."

Lady Jane calmed until a sight from over Emily's shoulder made her tense and her eyes flare with a kind of hatred and anger neither of her children had seen in her before. Emily might have guessed who could elicit such a reaction, even without the overbearing scent of cigar smoke.

"Ah, what a pleasant surprise!" Diesel 10 purred. "The _entire_ Hatt family has come out to see the passing of the torch! Well. _Almost_ all. Pity Master Gordon couldn't join you, hmm?"

" _Where_ is Gordon?" Lady Jane demanded to know, nearly lunging at Diesel 10 before James could stop her. "What have you done with him?"

Diesel 10 sneered down at her. "I've no earthly idea where he is, Lady Hatt. Despite your apparent belief that your children are not accountable for their own actions, Gordon most certainly dug his own grave. _Wherever_ that may be."

She growled and attempted to rush him again, having abandoned all sense of propriety and breeding. It took Emily _and_ James this time to restrain her.

Diesel 10 chuckled, "Do enjoy the ceremony!" before slithering off elsewhere.

* * *

Gordon sat, anxious and ashamed, wedged at the end of the seat in the cab of Paxton's truck, Caitlin between them with Paxton at the wheel. It had been determined over the course of the evening at Caitlin and Connor's flat that there was to be an opening ceremony, one in which Sir Topham Hatt's entire fleet of steam engines would be ceremoniously scrapped. Without question, it had to be stopped...but as for how one would go about doing this, Gordon had no clue. He'd have to figure it out, however, and he'd have to do so in less than two hours.

Caitlin seemed to sense his tension and placed her hand over his with a reassuring smile. He wished he could say it helped for longer than the moment it took to marvel at her. In the end, it only reminded him of what was at stake.

"We'll be getting there soon, Mr. Hatt," Paxton warned. "Any, uh...any progress towards that _plan_ idea we talked about? I'm sure we're all eager to-"

Interrupting this was the sudden presence of another car, swinging out in front of them so wildly Paxton had to slam on the breaks to narrowly miss a head-on collision. The car didn't move after this, however- instead, out popped Danny Diesel and the twin giants….all three of them pointing guns directly at the car.

Caitlin gasped and grabbed hold of Gordon's arm.

"Gordon, they have us cornered…" she whispered, her voice quivering with so much fear it made him furious that _anyone_ would dare cause it.

"These are _your_ associates," Gordon hissed over at Paxton. "Surely you can reason with them!"

Paxton's eyes were wide and his face had gone as white as a sheet.

"Well...considering that I last left one of them locked in a cell...I'd say the chances aren't good."

" _Try_!" Gordon glared back. "Our lives are on the line, for god's sake!"

Paxton nodded, swallowed thickly and moved out of the car in slow, gradual movements. He might not have been the brightest, but even he knew sudden movements could mean the difference between life and death when facing down a gun barrel.

"Move out of the way, dunderhead," Danny snapped, motioning with his pistol. "We're not here for you."

The twin giants, 'Arry and Bert, gave Danny a look of both reproach and surprise.

"That's _not_ what the boss said," one of them grunted (neither Paxton nor Gordon really knew which was which). "We take 'em both out."

Danny swiveled on them with a snarl that challenged them to defy his orders.

" _I'm_ the boss when Diesel 10 isn't here! He's told you so himself! If I say only take out the Hatt bastard, that's _all_ you're to take out!

Paxton was thoroughly confused but kept his hands raised and his position still in submission.

"Danny, what are you-"

"I'm trying to save you, _idiot_ ," Danny cursed through clenched teeth. "If you had any brains at all you would've left when you had the chance! As usual, I have to do all the bloody work..."

Paxton was touched by the fact that Danny would care enough to spare his life. After all they had been through, it was a comfort to know the person he considered his best friend seemed to view him similarly. Even so...he _couldn't_ leave innocent people to die.

"I'm not going anywhere, Danny," Paxton said, now splaying his arms and body protectively over the front of the truck. Caitlin and Gordon had the good sense to duck under in the floorboard long before, however. "I won't let you or Diesel 10 hurt Gordon Hatt. He's a good man! And so was Victor...I won't see any more blood spilled over this! I won't!"

Danny grit his jaw and held the gun at Paxton as if to intimidate him but everyone knew he didn't have the heart to pull the trigger- including 'Arry and Bert.

" _Come on_ ," one said to the other while rolling his eyes. "Ceremony'll be starting any minute now. I'm not gonna be the one to tell the boss we didn't come through."

Agreed, one of the twins knocked Danny unconscious with the handle of his gun, then stomped over and grabbed Paxton, throwing him to the other who wrapped him in a tight hold and pressed the barrel of his gun to his temple.

"When I give the word," the other one said to the one that held Paxton.

Paxton wriggled and fought against the giant, cement-like arms that held him. He had always fancied himself bigger and stronger than most, but when it came to 'Arry and Bert he might as well have been a frail old woman.

"Gordon, Caitlin, go! Make a break for it!" Paxton yelled futilely as the truck door was ripped open and Gordon was hauled out- fighting, though it made no difference. 'Arry or Bert made sure to lock Caitlin in behind him, so as to ensure no interference from someone he hadn't been instructed to kill; the twins were professional like that.

'Arry or Bert put his foot on Gordon's chest to keep him down and pointed his gun directly between his eyes. Caitlin screamed and hit the window of the truck, no doubt trying to smash it and save him in time. Paxton writhed against the chain-like grasp despite knowing it was no use.

"Buh bye, chum," said the one above Gordon, cocking his pistol and readying to deliver the kill shot.

It seemed as if it would be the end and Gordon didn't think he'd have minded much if there wasn't still so much at stake. But what could be done? He closed his eyes and prepared for oblivion.

Instead, there was the roar of the truck's engine and all at once it was gunning straight for them. 'Arry or Bert yelped and lifted his foot up long enough for Gordon to move out of the way, but the giant was hit hard by the front fender. It knocked him unconscious to the ground.

Gordon glanced up for an explanation, stunned to see Caitlin there at the wheel giving him a victorious smirk. She revved the engine at the other twin in warning and it was enough for him to realize the futility of the situation and lax his grip on Paxton. Paxton took advantage of his bewilderment to wrench the pistol from his large hand and then turn it on him.

Awed, Gordon stumbled over to the driver's side window.

"That's twice now that you've saved my life," he said to her. "I fear my debt will be _considerabl_ e."

Caitlin smirked and leaned in closer. "Oh, I think another kiss would be sufficient payment."

Gordon was about to oblige her when Paxton coughed and the still conscious twin groaned out loud at the sight.

"I _do_ hate to interrupt," said a concerned Paxton. "But the ceremony draws closer. What do we do now?"

Gordon glared at him a little for the (clearly intentional) interruption, but all things considered it was difficult to stay mad. In any case, he was right. Not long from now Diesel 10 would've scrapped every bit of what made the North Western what it was, unless they could find some means of higher authority to stop him.

* * *

Diesel 10 stood and waved to the politely enthusiastic crowd with his iron claw, less a gesture of welcome as it was a reminder of his domination. The railways ruled the island more surely than did the local government in more ways than one; this ceremony was as good as a modern day coronation of what would no doubt be a cruel and unforgiving King. Everyone present was aware of this, just as they were aware that nothing could be done. The Sudrians were now held fast in the grasp of the claw.

"I am both honored and humbled to see so many of our island residents present to usher me in as the new and, if I may say so, _worthy_ railway controller. As I have promised, it is my duty and my honor to see that Sodor does not fall behind modern invention, rather, that we keep _ahead_ and remain fixed on the future of railway commerce. This does, of course, mean that drastic changes will have to be implemented. A cleansing, if you will, of a time gone by…"

Emily worried and wrung her handkerchief in her hands, looking around all the while for any sign of her Uncle and cousins. Diesel 10 was no doubt eager to commit the final, ceremonial scrapping and though he did seem to enjoy stretching out the torture of it all that would only buy them so much time. She had to do _something_ , knowing as she did that she was the only one present who would.

"The way of the future is _diesel_ , my friends! Faster, more efficient, diesel engines will bring about a new age of wealth and prosperity to this precious island! _Steam_ is a thing of the past and it _must_ make way."

The drawing of a curtain and _there_ was the beloved fleet of steam engines, from the smallest tank to the fastest and most beloved tender, all lined up for the slaughter. If he was successful, this would be Diesel 10's claim more completely than anything signed on paper.

And there was a lever, she noticed, the one that would seal the fate of the entire railway if pulled. The wretched claw hovered far too close.

Still no sign of her Uncle, no indication that anything was going to change unless _she_ did something. When James and her mother were sufficiently distracted by Diesel 10's display, she slipped from her seat and crept around back, to the stairs leading up to the platform where Diesel 10 stood.

There was no concrete plan in mind, just an objective to _stop_ this at all costs.

* * *

Gordon, Caitlin and Paxton drove as fast the creaking truck would take them down the coast, rushing towards the ceremony in the scrapyard. They had the benefit of avoiding traffic as most of the island residents were either at said ceremony or keeping locked inside to avoid whatever carnage might ensue after the transition was complete. In the back bay they held the twins, tied up and secured with the rope that could be procured- all courtesy of Caitlin, who had more experience than the other two with seizing and roping livestock (it was a mental image Gordon knew he'd _never_ get out of his head).

There was very little Gordon would've stopped for at this point, but when Paxton suddenly called out, "Hang on! Is that... _Victor Castillo_ …?" he considered slamming on the brakes. Of course, it was impossible. The man wandering out by the side of the road, just shy of the beach couldn't have been the man they all knew to be dead...but if it _was_ …!

Gordon didn't normally entertain delusional ideas, but he was desperate for a way out of the pickle they all found themselves in and, by god, he needed a _miracle_. Risking whiplash, he whipped the less than agile truck around in a sharp u-turn and made his way back to the stranger that, even from this distance, looked waterlogged enough to be their man.

* * *

"Let's all count together, shall we?" Diesel 10 invited with a wicked smile. "Down from ten! This should be a moment of glory in which we are all allowed to participate and _bask_."

It was more taunt and torture than invitation, like a cat toying with his prey before ripping off the head. Everyone was compelled (by Diesel 10's intimidating swath of bruisers) to stand and count with him, to take part in the demolition of Sodor's pride. All resistance had been for naught, it would seem. No longer were they the resilient children of the stars that had kept their island home from threat. Less than humbling, it was utter humiliation.

"10, 9…."

Lady Hatt held been holding fast to James, a mess of tears, when she came to realize the other of her brood was missing. "Emily…! Where's Emily gone?!"

"8, 7…."

Emily threw her heels to the side and darted up the stairs as quickly and quietly as she could. The main focus of attention was on the crowd as a whole, and this afforded her the ability to sneak up onto the platform, into the shadows, and that much closer to Diesel 10.

"6, 5, 4…"

James, however, caught sight of her in the rafters and subtly directed his mother's attention to her presence without alerting the bruisers nearby. "Emily…!" Lady Hatt whispered in fear and desperation. "Emily, no…!"

"3...2….1-"

Diesel 10's iron claw had just wrapped around the lever and flexed to pull it, when Emily all but flew out of the shadows and knocked him to the ground. For once, she could feel only gratitude for her what her broader, solid size could do against his long and lanky form. She used this strength to pin him and his limbs down to the floor of the platform.

"The kitten has _teeth_ then, does she?" Diesel 10 hissed with an unsettling grin. "Good...good! I was so hoping I wouldn't be disappointed for lack of some resistance!"

Emily glared down at him. "You will _never_ have the Northwestern. _Never_! Not so long as there's a breath in my body will you _ever_ have this railway!"

Diesel 10's smirk widened. "Ah, then I will have to _see_ to that, won't I?"

He then used his legs to take her by surprise, kick her to the ground hard and immobilized her long enough to grab hold of her. He tied her wrists and yanked her up to standing, that horrible iron claw wrapped around her throat in a near vice grip as once again he stood before the crowd. Emily could barely breathe.

"I'm sure everyone in attendance is familiar with Miss Emily Hatt? Precious daughter of a former controller, much beloved I'm sure! Kind enough to _assist_ me in my efforts- _that_ , or for want of _breath_!" This he hissed sharply and tightened his hold on her throat. "I do suggest, if everyone wishes for her to continue on breathing, that we all stay as we are and not try any further attempts at defiance. _This_ is your future. Embrace it."

Once again, Diesel 10 reached for the lever. Lady Hatt wilted into her youngest son's shoulder, Emily gasped for air and wept. All seemed utterly and hopelessly lost.

Until the unthinkable happened.

"Release the young woman and step away from the lever! The jig is up!"

All at once the venue was swarmed with mainland police, all of them aiming pistols at Diesel 10 and his bruisers. At the center of this was Gordon, Caitlin, Paxton and, against all reason and likelihood, the formerly dead Victor Castillo. Diesel 10's eyes widened, his face flushed pale in unabated realization that his plans had been foiled.

But he did _not_ release Emily.

"I suppose you think you have me _cornered_ now, Master Gordon!" Diesel 10 hissed, his attempts at confidence in his situation betrayed by the flickering hints of fear and desperation. The maniacal laughter seemed to waver and break. "That you've foiled my plans, that all, for _me_ , is lost! But, you see, I have what they call, a hostage."

He pulled out a pistol from somewhere concealed on his person and pressed it into Emily's temple.

"And I have absolutely _no_ intention of releasing her- not alive, anyway. "

To create a disturbance sufficient enough to hide him, he shot blindly into the crowd (though against all reason, no one was hurt) and made a break for the car waiting for him behind the scrapyard, Emily still in his grasp. He tossed the driver to the side, Emily in the back seat, and then stepped hard on the gas, making the car screech out of the lot and onto the main road. From a distance the sound of sirens could be heard as the police scrambled to come after them, but Diesel 10 already had a significant head start, enough to get him (and his hostage) far out of reach.

He drove and drove, seemingly without a purpose or heading. Emily's heart beat fast in her ears as she tried to move against her binds and launch herself out of the car; she would likely sustain injuries but she rathered take a chance on physics than with the demon of a man in the driver's seat.

Whether or not she could have done this remained a mystery. Diesel 10 swerved and stopped the car near a swath of wilderness.

"Come, come, dear, we haven't all day," he taunted, brandishing the pistol against her as he picked her back up with his horrible claw and all but dragged her to the patch of woods.

"What are you going to do, _kill_ me?" she challenged. Though she was frightened beyond reckoning she made an effort not to show this in her voice or body language, continuing to struggle against him in the futile hope she might still escape. "What good will that do you? The Northwestern has been _saved_. You've been thwarted. You've _lost_."

They were a good piece in the thick of the forest now, far enough from the road, and it was here that Diesel 10 threw her hard against the trunk of a tree. Emily cried out in pain.

" _Yes_ , it would seem I've been bested! You should be grateful for the collective incompetence surrounding us." He clicked the pistol and aimed it squarely at her. "However, I do think finding his daughter shot dead between the eyes in the thick of the forest will sour Sir Topham's victory just a tad, don't you, Miss Hatt? _That_ will be my victory."

His words were barely audible in the swimming and buzzing of her mind from having been thrown so hard. She wanted to move, but the binds coupled with her lack of awareness made it feel as if she was swimming through syrup. She wasn't ready to resign herself to death, but there seemed no hope of saving herself.

She wouldn't need to.

A flash of something black and the pistol was knocked from Diesel 10's iron claw. It was the first time Emily had seen genuine shock on his face.

"Wha-...who did-...! Who's there! I _demand_ you show yourself!" Diesel 10 roared like a wounded lion, somehow thinking himself in a position to make orders when he was effectively unarmed. "I will _tear_ you limb from limb…!"

Another flash, as quick as lightning, and the flash appeared as what seemed to be the figure of man, clothed entirely in black, face obscured. He had pinned down and subdued Diesel 10 with binds of his own faster than what seemed capable of a human being. Diesel 10 continued to struggle and screech like an angry cat as the figure then cut the binds from Emily's wrists. She looked up and for a fleeting moment caught the man's eyes, which in turn went wide with surprise.

"Sir, who are you?" she asked, awed.

If he was going to answer her he wasn't given time. The police caught up then, surrounding the forest and Diesel 10's hastily discarded car. When Emily looked back from the arrival the man was gone completely, as if he had never been there.


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N:** This is just a little wrap-up chapter, nothing extreme happens here other than tying up some loose ends. There will not be an answer here about who saved Emily from Diesel 10 because that's something I hope to address in the next installment. YES THERE WILL BE ANOTHER. The reception to this was better than I could have ever hoped for and I think more adventures in this universe are due. So this is it for the Diesel portion, let me know what you think! Thanks again for all the amazing feedback!

* * *

It was in the privacy of the garden, in the dewey, flower-scented warm air of early summer that Emily was given opportunity to marvel at fate in all of its preposterousness.

"I _still_ can't believe you're alive," she said, her arms around Victor's neck, their lips still moist with kisses that never seemed to sate them completely. "I thought we had lost you forever."

He ran his fingers through her hair (neither of them caring how this might have ruined what she'd done to set it earlier) and pressed his forehead to hers. "Mi querida…" he grinned. "Let's us be thankful I'm a proficient swimmer...even with my legs and arms bound."

"Well, I _know_ my father is."

"Yes," Victor agreed. "More important than anything else is knowing I could take the opportunity to exonerate Sir Topham. A man so honorable should _never_ be treated like criminal."

"He's endlessly grateful- as is Gordon. I hope they've apologized to you enough. Ten to twenty times ought to do it, right?"

With much reluctance she untangled herself from him, settling instead for lacing their hands together to lead him back. They would soon be missed at the main event in Ulfstead Castle and despite their relationship now being welcomed with open arms, Emily _still_ didn't care for anyone seeking them out and finding them in an intimate moment.

"Are you _excited_ for London?" Victor asked as they strolled together.

"Yes, extremely...and _no_ ," she admitted. "I wish that I could remain longer. You've only just resurfaced after I thought you _dead_. What kind of person am I to waltz off at a time like this?"

Victor laughed and shook his head. "You've wanted to study dance your entire life. London provides this for you. I will remain here as I always have, awaiting your letters and your calls. I'll see you when you visit and, perhaps, I could come to see _you_ from time to time."

Emily wanted to ask after the future, what they would do if London called her to be there for a career, but left it for now. The importance of the present hadn't been lost on her in light of all these trying events; they were together now and that's all that mattered.

* * *

"It really _is_ the strangest thing," Gordon said, extrapolating on events of the escape while nursing a cup of tea that looked tiny in his large hands. "She says a cloaked figure of some kind saved her, appeared from the darkness, subdued Diesel 10, and freed her from her binds just as the police arrived. And then- he was _gone_. No sign of him whatsoever!"

The faces of the Norramby's, Percy and Rosie lit up in shock. The details of the escape hadn't been told so fascinatingly before.

"Perhaps it was a ghost!" Rosie suggested with a gasp.

Gordon scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Don't be _ridiculous_ , Miss Sinclair. I'm sure there's a perfectly _reasonable_ explanation that doesn't involve spectres and ghouls."

"What matters is that Emily is safe and sound," Sir Topham Hatt said, having finally made his way to the group after chatting with the rest of the garden party attendees. "As are we _all_ , thank goodness. With Diesel 10 locked away for the foreseeable future I feel our continued security is a guarantee."

The group agreed with nods and verbal affirmations. Sir Topham Hatt then placed his hand on Gordon's shoulder and said to him privately, "If I may have a word?"

In a corner tucked away from the crowds Gordon faced his father in what would be their first moment alone together since all had gone pear-shaped and back again. He couldn't help but feel both shame and fear, the former due to things he had caused that would have been avoidable if not for his pride, the latter due to what his father might say to him in confidence. Gordon knew he _had_ to have been disappointed.

Sir Topham said nothing before reaching into his inner coat pocket and bringing out an envelope, which he then handed off to his son.

"What's this…?" Gordon asked, thoroughly confused. Of all the things he had expected to exchange with his father in this moment, a _letter_ was not one of them.

"You will find inside this envelope a check of what I estimate will be a sufficient amount. With this, I give you full authority to purchase a new fleet of diesel engines for the Northwestern Railway- whichever you see fit, all to work alongside our fleet of steam."

Gordon's eyes widened. He looked to his father for further explanation, as the one he'd been given only succeeded to confuse him more. Sir Topham sighed and said,

"Though I think we _both_ agree you made some very foolhardy decisions in this course of this crisis, there was wisdom in your intent that I don't think should be ignored. The future of the railway industry is changing rapidly, faster than I feel fully prepared for. If the Northwest Railway hopes to acclimate to the changing climate it must move with the times...as must the Controller. The truth of it is, I need your help in this, Gordon. You can see beyond a horizon to which I am blinded. If you would _oblige_ me, I should like to call on you more often as concerns decisions with the railway."

Now Gordon understood. Neither he nor his father had ever been ones for affection, as such, this conversation would not be ending in an embrace or some such ridiculous thing. But it was, for all intents and purposes, as close as the two of them would get to a vulnerable bonding. Gordon nodded and, perhaps, the full extent of what this level of trust meant to him could be seen in his eyes.

"Yes, father. Of course."

Sir Topham patted Gordon's arm, offered a tight and controlled smile, and then excused himself to resume the festivities. Gordon could only marvel for a moment at the now very symbolic envelope before tucking it away as had his father.

As if in complete and sudden contrast to the moment just before it, hands were suddenly thrown over his eyes and a very familiar voice chimed out, "Guess who?"

"I just _don't_ know," Gordon groaned. "Mr. Percival, could that _possibly_ be you? Or perhaps it's Diesel 10 come to enact his revenge?"

The culprit -unquestionably Caitlin- giggled and allowed Gordon his sight back. "All very good guesses, but I'm afraid it's _just_ me."

Gordon huffed out a small laugh he couldn't stifle. "Oh, shame. Well, I suppose you'll _do_."

She took his arm in her own and led them away from the thick of things, being the ever constant beam of unfiltered light that she was. Gordon couldn't figure out for the life of him why she wanted to be here, of all places, at his side- of _ALL_ people! Uncle Robert was right, however; he shouldn't question a miracle. He was still selfish enough for that, at least.

"I wanted to tell you," she said, her face pinkened with an anxious blush. "We've decided to stay for good- Connor and I. Your dear Sir Robert has requested our talents in horse handling and horseback riding lessons at the castle. I felt it was too good an opportunity to pass up."

Gordon smiled. Now, much more confident in both his abilities and the status of their relationship, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him in a very cheeky and yet charming manner.

"I don't suppose _I_ had anything to do with this decision?" he asked, very presumptive, as he ghosted his lips over hers.

"You...may have influenced the odds slightly... _very_ slightly…" she conceded, now far more concerned with coaxing him to kiss her than anything involving words.

"Allow me to tip the scale to my favor then, hmm?"

A hand at the back of her neck, cupping and tilting her head back as Gordon kissed Caitlin long and deep, uninterrupted and unconcerned with who would see. If anything, he wanted the world to know of what this woman did to him, of what she had done to help him become better than he ever would have been without her.

* * *

There were places Sir Topham would have rather been than a garden party, no matter the cause of celebration. He suspected that the absent party attendee, the young man he had been _hoping_ to see, would have felt similarly. Unable to be away from Knapford for even the duration of a day, he drove himself there and happened to cross paths with Paxton, his newly hired employee.

"What a pleasant surprise, Sir!" Paxton greeted him. "I hadn't expected to see you today. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, quite," Sir Topham assured him with a warm smile. "I had hoped I might find Mr. Huntington here?"

Paxton nodded and gestured towards the nearby shunting yard where Thomas was hard at work with Edward stoking the coal fire of the number 2 engine- chattering as much as he was learning. Sir Topham beamed and made his way over, causing both Thomas and Edward to all but jump out of their skin when they saw him.

"Sir…!" Edward stuttered. "I hope you don't mind! Mr. Huntington was just so eager to learn and I-"

Sir Topham politely put up a hand to assure him all was well.

"No explanation needed, Mr. Sinclair. I'm well aware of Mr. Huntington's passion for rail. As it so happens, I was planning to ask if you would be amenable to tutoring him in engine driving. Great minds do indeed think alike!"

Thomas' eyes lit up.

"Sir…!" he exclaimed. "Does...does this mean you'd like for to become a-...?"

"It most certainly does, Thomas. Your initiative through this ordeal has demonstrated to me that you are ready to learn about every aspect of the North Western. The most important, of course, is knowing the rails and the engines intimately- and you can't do that if you aren't operating!"

Thomas looked so overwhelmed with joy that he might have begun crying right then and there. As if to avoid this uncomfortable development, Sir Topham cleared his throat and asked Edward,

"Mr. Sinclair, do you believe he's ready _now_ to go on his first trip? I should very much like to see Mr. Huntington on his maiden voyage."

Edward grinned and looked to the young man in question. "I'd say he knows this engine well enough now to begin. What do _you_ think, Thomas?"

Thomas didn't need to be asked twice- he flew to the controls immediately. Edward stoked the fire once more and Sir Topham stood back to allow them room to begin. A slow chuff at first as they built steam, heading out towards the main line from Knapford.

"I'm doing it, Sir!" Thomas called out from the cab, almost in disbelief of the whole thing.

"Very good job!" Sir Topham yelled back. "Steady as she goes at first! You're doing beautifully!"

Unsure if Thomas could hear over the heavy chuffing he also delivered a wave of approval. Thomas reciprocated before building up more steam, more speed with his engine and heading out towards the main route as if he had been doing this forever.

"I'm doing it! I'm actually doing it!" he hooted and hollered as the engine began to disappear from the station.

Sir Topham Hatt laughed a bit under his breath, finding himself reliving his own first moment operating an engine. He would have been about Thomas' age, he recalled, young and eager and still in awe of the world around him.

Perhaps, he thought, that sense of youthful wonder could _still_ be found.


End file.
